


A Whirlwind of Crimson

by Nelenus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crimson Flower Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-01-20 23:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelenus/pseuds/Nelenus
Summary: It was the most strategically sound decision. In order to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, Claude had to be eliminated. With him gone, the Alliance is subjugated and Edelgard can focus on fighting the Kingdom.Neither she nor Byleth could have expected their decision to have consequences beyond the Alliance's borders.
Comments: 111
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

“Wouldn’t it be better to let me go and have me in your debt?”

Claude stood on the pier, beside his wyvern, his hands raised in surrender. Alone. Cornered.

So many of his companions had already given their lives for him, against his orders. Worse, those sacrifices had been in vain. Judith and Ignatz at the Great Bridge of Myrddin. And here, Hilda and Lysithea. They all fell, and this was all he had to show for it. Not even a surprise attack from Nader and the Almyran army was able to stop the Imperial advance. All his schemes were for naught.

Derdriu had fallen. The Alliance, collapsed. And now, Emperor Edelgard had Claude himself cornered on the pier. The steely look in her eyes spelled her intention out all too clearly. Claude’s only chance lay with the person standing at her side. With the person he had once called “Teach”.

Claude looked Byleth in the eye. The blank stare he got in return sent chills down his spine.

Byleth stood still as a statue, their expression unreadable. They still held the Sword of the Creator, but had it pointed down at the ground. Edelgard, on the other hand, trained her gaze on Claude, her axe Aymr at the ready. She stole a fleeting glance at her teacher.

“Consider the consequences,” she said. “We cannot risk letting--”

“I know.”

Their voice quavered with uncertainty. Even their sword shook a little bit in their grasp. But it was only for a fraction of a second.

With one quick motion, Byleth lifted the Sword of the Creator. Its glowing red blade now hovered inches away from Claude’s chest. Seeing its master threatened, Claude’s wyvern jumped up and roared at Byleth, but Edelgard stepped in to block the way. Caught off guard by the wyvern, Byleth lowered their sword as quickly as they had raised it. Meanwhile, Claude frantically reached for the reins and pulled the wyvern back. The beast backed down, reluctantly. It kept its wings back and its teeth bared, still glaring at Byleth.

A few seconds passed in tense silence. Once she was convinced the wyvern had been pacified, Edelgard lowered her axe, but then held out her free hand. She looked pointedly at the reins, which Claude still held in his hands. She then looked at Claude.

Claude’s eyes went wide, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on the reins. He glanced back and forth between Edelgard and the professor. Searching, desperately, for something that wasn’t there.

Byleth shifted their stance, raising their sword once again. At last, Claude was able to read their face.

“I’m sorry, Claude,” they said.

There was no cold determination, like with Edelgard. This was sorrow. And regret.

They had made their decision then. The interruption from Claude’s wyvern was merely delaying the inevitable.

“I see.”

Claude lowered his head. His arms fell to his sides, nearly making him lose his grip on the reins.

“Right until the very end, I’ve read this whole thing… terribly wrong…” he said, voice shaking.

With a trembling hand, he handed Edelgard the reins.

“All my hopes have fallen to ash…”

Before Edelgard pulled his wyvern away from him, Claude reached up and gently patted the creature on its neck. He whispered soothingly to it in a language Edelgard did not recognize before backing away. The wyvern huffed in response, looking frantically from Claude, to Byleth, to Edelgard, and back to Claude again.

Claude closed his eyes. He sighed, trying to prepare himself.

“It’s all up to you now, Edelgard,” he said. “I hope you really do make the world…”

Byleth drew their sword back, getting ready to strike.

“…better…”

Byleth lunged forward, the Sword of the Creator turning into a glowing red blur. As quickly as they had moved, they then froze. They and Claude leaned over each other’s shoulders as if locked in an embrace.

A deadly embrace.

The Sword of the Creator pierced Claude’s chest, and even protruded through his back, dripping his blood onto the pier. Byleth remained motionless for one second before stepping back, pulling the sword from Claude’s chest. Claude then fell to the ground.

A bloodcurdling screech rent the air. Though Edelgard had tightened her grip on the wyvern’s reins in anticipation, it proved pointless. The beast lunged forward with more force than Edelgard expected. She pulled back on the reins, trying desperately to hold it back. Their tug of war lasted a couple of seconds, and then the reins snapped.

The wyvern charged, knocking Byleth aside with enough force to send their sword flying from their hands. Winded and in severe pain, Byleth lay helpless on the pier for a minute. Edelgard raised Aymr and prepared to rush in to defend him, but the wyvern did not pursue its target.

With Byleth out of the way, the wyvern promptly turned its attention to its fallen master. It nudged Claude’s face and arms repeatedly, but to no avail.

The wyvern threw its head back and let out another screech. It was a horrifying noise that make the hairs on the back of Edelgard’s neck stand on end and forced her to cover her ears. Even when Byleth recovered the strength to stand, they remained on the ground, shielding their ears as well.

Meanwhile, the wyvern’s cry carried out into the city and over the water. It caught the attention of the Almyran soldiers as their ships sailed out of the harbor.

“What was that?” one of the men wondered aloud.

On the deck of the flagship, General Nader froze. He had only just dismounted his own wyvern, but instantly reached for the reins again at the awful sound.

Sensing defeat was imminent, the Almyran forces had begun their retreat, just as Claude had instructed in the contingency plan. But Claude had promised Nader he would return to Almyra with him if Derdriu was truly lost. The last of the warships had made it out of the harbor, but there was still no sign of Claude. Instead, a wyvern’s cry of distress rang in Nader’s ears. And the sound was coming from the pier – where Claude had positioned himself at the start of the battle.

Nader hurried to the railing, looking out on Derdriu Harbor as it gradually shrank in the distance. Though difficult to see it clearly, a couple of figures stood by the pillars on the pier. A large, black figure – probably Claude’s wyvern – was also there. But who were those other figures, and why hadn’t Claude left the harbor yet?

Heart suddenly pounding, Nader ran back to his wyvern and jumped back in the saddle.

“Come on, kiddo, what’s going on…” he muttered.

Nudging his wyvern, he gave a command in Almyran, and the beast took to the air. They made a beeline for the pier.

As he neared the harbor, Nader could better make out the other figures present on the pier. One was a white-haired woman, clad all in red. Her green-haired companion wore mostly gray. They stood on either side of Claude’s wyvern, which had its head lowered and its wings drooped.

Meanwhile, Nader’s answer lay on the ground at the wyvern’s feet.

Reeling with shock, he pulled on the reins of his own wyvern, diverting his course for a bit before coming to a halt. The wyvern hovered in midair while Nader looked on in disbelief.

“Master Claude…” he said weakly.

Claude’s body was mostly obscured by the wyvern, but as soon as Nader noticed the golden cape and pool of blood, he knew. The general’s hands began to shake. He had not planned for this.

The person in gray sheathed their sword. They began to approach the woman in red, but doing so meant crossing in front of the wyvern. The woman dropped what appeared to be the wyvern’s broken reins.

“Don’t -” she cried.

Her warning came a fraction of a second too late. Claude’s wyvern, noticing the movement out of the corner of its eye, went into a frenzy. It flapped its wings furiously, stirring up a powerful wind that threw the humans off balance. Rising to its feet, the wyvern let out another screech and swung its tail. It caught the person in gray right in the gut, knocking them flat. The woman in red leaped out of the way in time, and now had readied her axe.

Heart plummeting, Nader decided to intervene. He called to the wyvern with a high-pitched whistling noise. It froze, taking a fraction of a second to locate the source of the whistle. It spread its wings wide at the sight of the Almyran general, generating another miniature vortex.

Nader whistled again, keeping an eye on the woman with the axe. Though the wyvern’s antics slowed her down, she still stood too close for his liking. When the wyvern finally took to the air and flew to Nader’s side, the Almyran general visibly relaxed. He then silently cursed himself.

He had already failed. Claude was dead; returning to Almyra with his wyvern would mean no more than returning totally empty-handed.

But then, even the battle-hardened Almyran general had seen enough death for one day.

Hanging his head in defeat, Nader turned his own wyvern around. With another whistle, he called for Claude’s wyvern to follow him. They then raced to catch up to the Almyran fleet.

“That man!” the woman yelled. “That’s the Almyran general! Bring him down!”

Her companion drew their sword. With a quick downward swing, the weapon came apart, extending itself into a long whip. They lashed the whip-sword in Nader’s direction, but he and the wyverns already had a massive speed and distance advantage. The strike missed by several feet. By the time they retracted the sword and made ready to strike again, Nader was nearly out of even the range of a bow shot.

Minutes later, Nader guided his and Claude’s wyvern onto the deck of the Almyran flagship. As the general dismounted, the captain left his place at the helm and headed over. He stopped short upon realizing the second wyvern had no rider.

“General Nader? Where is -”

Nader slowly approached the captain, head still hanging low. The captain swallowed hard and attempted to ask the question again.

“_Where is he?_” he asked, in hushed tones this time.

All Nader managed was a shake of the head in response.

The captain’s eyes clouded with confusion for a second, though the expression was quickly replaced with horror and disbelief.

“But… What will His Majesty…”

Nader strode past the captain without a word. Keeping his head lowered so as to avoid looking at the men, he immediately headed belowdecks. That left the captain with little choice but to return to the helm. On the way, he selected a random pair of men from the crew.

“See to those wyverns,” he ordered. “They are no doubt exhausted from the battle. Make sure they are fed and watered. Go.”

The men hastened to obey the command. The rest of the crew went back to their regular duties. At the same time, an unnatural hush spread over the ship. Though not a single word of it was uttered, the news began to spread. It was in the men’s eyes. In their subdued manner. In the heavy silence that hung over them. In their hearts, they knew.

Almyra had lost more than just a battle.


	2. Chapter 2

As night fell, the heavy silence that had plagued the Almyran fleet through the day was finally broken. Per Almyran tradition, the ship’s cook had a grand feast prepared for the soldiers and crew. Win or lose, every battle was always followed by a feast. Though their loss was great, any good Almyran warrior knew that the post-battle feast was just as much to honor the dead as anything else.

The captain made the announcement shortly before sundown. He and General Nader then personally went back and forth between the deck and the galley, helping set up. They even broke out the ship’s stores of finest wines. By the time the last ray of sunlight vanished below the horizon, the festivities were well under way.

An hour later, Nader leaned against the mast with his third round of wine in hand. Though he watched the dancing and singing with casual interest, he did not join in.

“General!” The captain strode over, carrying a glass of his own. “Aren’t you going to join the men?”

Nader chuckled, then downed his drink in one swallow.

“Not until the wine hits,” he said. He stared into the empty cup. “And believe me, that will take a while.”

The captain scoffed.

“Your words are already starting to slur, you lightweight,” he said. He sipped his own wine, then gestured at the group of men dancing in front of them. “Go on. Your dancing can’t be any worse than theirs.”

“Bah.”

Nader walked back over to the kegs to pour himself more wine. To his annoyance, the captain followed him.

“What?” the general said. “Can’t a man drink his wine in peace?”

“I have to make sure you leave some for the rest of the men,” the captain joked.

He downed the rest of his drink. Instead of joining the general at the wine keg, however, his jovial expression suddenly faded.

“But seriously,” the captain said. “I know you’re not shy about dancing with the men. You’re avoiding them for a different reason.”

Nader took another swig of wine, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“General -”

Nader interrupted the captain with a raised hand.

“I’ll join them eventually,” he said. “Just need to… clear my head first.”

The captain gave him a quizzical look.

“Look, Captain, who do you think gets the honor of talking to the king after this?” Nader said. “Who gets to tell him that his only son was killed?”

No answer. Nader gave a mirthless laugh and finished his drink.

“That would be me!” he said, hitting himself in the chest for emphasis. “If you were in my position, you’d want to take your mind off it all for a while too. So if you’ll excuse me…”

He went to pour himself a fifth drink while the captain watched, stunned into silence. The Almyran general poured the wine and walked back over to join the captain. Already growing unsteady on his feet, he nearly spilled his cup on the way.

Captain and general then went over to where the rest of the men were dancing. Setting his cup aside, the captain joined in after a couple of minutes. Nader continued to watch.

As the men danced, one of them would lead in a song. The rest would join in, often loudly and off-key. And when one song ended, someone else would jump in and lead in another song. They sang the praises of their homeland, and about the exploits of great Almyran warriors. As the wine started to lift his mood, Nader began to sing along. Finally, when he had drained his cup, he got up and joined in the dancing.

The feasting and dancing went on well into the night. But as exhaustion set in, the dances slowed. One by one, the men retired and went to bed.

Nader was among the last to leave. When he did finally return to his quarters, he stumbled into his cot, falling asleep instantly. He did not awaken until nearly noon the next day. And even then, he spent the day nursing a nasty hangover. Fortunately, he had the entire day to recover.

The Almyran fleet pulled into port the day after that.

The fully recovered general now had to make ready to face his king.

Nader saddled his wyvern, getting ready to leave. However, the whole time he spent preparing, he couldn’t help but notice Claude’s wyvern, sitting unattended in the same nest.

Someone had removed its saddle, reins and other equipment. It all probably sat in storage somewhere on the ship, though Nader was not sure exactly where.

The general cast a forlorn glance at the wyvern. He would need to fetch that equipment, if no one brought it to him first. It was all they had of Claude’s possessions.

Heaving a sigh, Nader dropped the reins on his own wyvern. Not knowing which of the men had taken the equipment, he would have to just ask around. He left the nest and began wandering the ship on his search. To his relief, the search did not last long.

He happened upon one of his deputy commanders just a short distance from the nest. The man quickly directed the general to the storage area. He pulled out a large box from the corner, lifting the lid to reveal a saddle, saddlebags, and bridle and reins.

“What are you going to do with this?” the deputy asked.

Nader looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Saddle his wyvern,” he said.

After a moment’s pause, the deputy realized the statement was not just a reply, but an order. He reached into the box to retrieve the saddle. He looked quizzical, but nevertheless did as he was told. Meanwhile, Nader took the reins. Together they carried the equipment back to the nest. They had Claude’s wyvern outfitted in a matter of minutes.

The deputy stepped back. He looked back and forth between Nader and the wyverns.

“Is there anything else, sir?” he asked.

Nader took the reins of his own wyvern, jumping into the saddle.

“Gather the men,” he said. “I’m going on ahead to the capital. You’ll have full command until I return.”

“Sir?”

Nader nudged his wyvern and took to the air. As he climbed, he whistled, signaling Claude’s wyvern to follow. It took to the air, following Nader over the top of the sails of the ship. They flew into town, eventually disappearing into the skyline.

Going alone and by air, Nader reached the Almyran capital long before his men. He touched down just outside the palace gates the next day.

Seeing two wyverns approaching, two of the palace guards mounted their own wyverns, flying up to investigate.

“Halt!” one the guards shouted in Almyran. “Who are you, and what is your business here?”

“I am General Nader the Undefeated!” Nader replied. “I am here to report to His Majesty, King Kasirga!”

The guard looked skeptical for half a second. He looked at the wyvern hovering Nader’s side, fully outfitted, but with no rider. The guard frowned.

“I am here to speak with the king,” Nader repeated.

“Y-yes, of course…” the guard said, still distracted by the riderless wyvern. His question would go unasked, however.

He allowed Nader to land outside the gates while the other guard went inside to inform the king. Minutes later, the second guard returned to bring Nader inside. Nader, the guard, and both wyverns then proceeded through the gates.

Upon reaching the doors of the throne room, Nader strode past the guard and pushed them open himself. He grabbed the reins of both wyverns and led them inside. The guard stayed behind, closing the doors once the other three were inside.

The throne room fell silent at Nader’s entry. Even the king himself, who had been absorbed in a conversation with the vizier, suddenly turned his attention to the newcomers in the room. The general walked slowly up to the throne, unknowingly tightening his grip on the wyverns’ reins with each step. Despite the short distance, the walk from the door to the throne felt like an eternity. When Nader finally came to a halt, he swallowed hard, then took a deep breath to steel himself. He looked his king in the eye.

King Kasirga leaned forward on his throne. He rested one hand under his bearded chin, eyes narrowed. His gaze drifted over to the wyverns, lingering on Claude’s wyvern in particular. 

“General Nader,” he said. He gestured at Claude’s wyvern. “What is the meaning of this?”

Nader winced. No chance of giving the battle report first. He had to deliver the bad news right away.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Nader said, bowing his head low. “The Adrestian Empire’s forces ran us out of Derdriu. Clau – er, Prince Arash… was killed. This is his wyvern…”

He winced again. The time he had spent knowing him as Claude was showing. He inwardly cursed himself for coming so dangerously close to accidentally using the prince’s Fódlan name in front of the Almyran king. And at the worst possible time.

The king did not respond. He simply closed his eyes.

“Arash… my son…” he muttered.

Nader shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His knuckles started to turn white from clutching the reins so tightly, but still he did not let go. Furthermore, he kept himself rooted to the spot. As hard as it was to watch, he could not leave the king’s presence.

Kasirga did not move. His eyes remained closed. Meanwhile, everyone else in the throne room fixed their gazes on him, waiting.

After a few more seconds of silence, the king sat upright and opened his eyes.

“Tell me what happened.”

Nader took a long, deep breath. He gave the full battle report. Telling the king everything he knew. Everything that he saw.

“By the time I found him, it was too late,” he finished. “There were only two members of the Imperial force on the pier at the time. It had to be one of them.”

“Who were they?”

“A woman dressed in red, wearing a horned crown,” Nader replied. “And some other person, dressed in gray, and wielding a strange sword that glows red.” He shrugged. “Beyond that, I don’t actually know who they are.”

“A crown?” the vizier cut in. “That could well be their emperor.”

“If so, then that makes her personally responsible,” Kasirga said, anger edging into his voice. “Whether she dealt the blow or not, the emperor is responsible for my son’s death.”

The king sighed and closed his eyes again. He sat quietly while more whispering circulated through the room. Half a minute went by with him saying nothing. Then he reopened his eyes.

“So… Fódlan wishes to make an enemy of us,” he said. “Very well. We will oblige them.”

* * *

News of the Battle of Derdriu spread through the Alliance the very next day. Emperor Edelgard and the Black Eagle Strike Force had already marched back to Garreg Mach, but a garrison of Imperial troops remained in the Aquatic Capital. In the days that followed, the Empire solidified its hold over the former Alliance. One by one, the Alliance lords and their territories fell under Imperial rule.

Houses Daphnel and Riegan, having lost their leaders, buckled and fell under Imperial rule by default. House Gloucester submitted willingly the moment as they received word of Edelgard’s victory. A distraught Count Ordelia surrendered three days later. Margrave Edmund’s surrender came in at approximately the same time.

That left Goneril as the last Alliance territory to fall.

The day after Derdriu fell, a lone messenger slipped out of the city, undetected by Imperial soldiers. They arrived at Duke Goneril’s doorstep two days later, carrying the news and a letter. The messenger, a boy barely out of his teens, walked up to the door and knocked. Though a frigid wind blew in from the north, that was not the reason for his shaking.

He jumped in surprise when Goneril’s son, Lord Holst, answered the door.

The young Alliance general cut an imposing figure, standing a full head taller than the boy at his doorstep. He had the characteristic pinkish red Goneril hair, with eyes of matching color. His piercing gaze made the boy shrink back.

“I… I have news from Derdriu…” the messenger said. His hand shook violently as he reached into his satchel, pulling out a sealed envelope. “And a letter for you…”

Holst furrowed his brow. He reached for the letter, eyeing the boy with concern.

“What news?” he asked, though a sinking feeling in his stomach told him he already knew the answer. If the boy’s behavior was any indication, it was not good news.

“Derdriu has fallen to Imperial forces,” the messenger replied. “Even with the aid of Almyran reinforcements, we couldn’t stop them…”

Holst’s eyebrows shot up.

“What?” he said.

“And… Duke Riegan’s been executed,” the messenger continued. “The Alliance… is finished. Emperor Edelgard has already sent out demands of surrender to the other Alliance lords.”

Holst’s expression grew increasingly grim as he listened to the news. As terrible as all this was, concern over something else nagged at the Alliance general’s mind the whole time. Something crucial to House Goneril, but that the messenger had yet to mention.

“And my sister?” Holst asked.

The messenger’s whole body quivered with fear. He said nothing.

Holst clutched the letter so tightly he crumpled it. He lowered his eyebrows again. When he spoke, his voice was just barely above a growl.

“My sister, Hilda,” he repeated. “When last she wrote, she said she was in Derdriu, helping Claude with the defenses. Did she make it out of there?”

The messenger barely managed a small shake of the head.

“I’m so sorry, milord…” he said. “Lady Hilda… was killed in battle.”

Holst froze up, paralyzed by shock. He stared unblinkingly at the messenger boy, still processing what he had just heard.

“I…”

A military defeat, and the prospect of falling under Imperial rule, Holst could handle. But not at the added price of his sister’s life.

Tears began welling up in the young general’s eyes. He lowered his head, hiding his face somewhat. Not that it mattered; the boy had already seen his tears.

“Hilda…”

A heavy silence fell over the two men. One minute passed, then two.

As Holst regained his composure, he looked back at the letter in his hand, still unopened. Blinking back the last of his tears, he tried to smooth out the crumpled envelope on his leg. Only a few of the crinkles got smoothed out.

“I take it this is her last letter?” Holst said.

Without waiting for an answer, he flipped the envelope over and looked at the seal. He frowned. That crescent moon shape was House Riegan’s symbol. The Crest of Riegan.

The letter was from Claude, not Hilda.

“What is this?” Holst asked.

“Duke Riegan only told me to deliver this to you in the event of his death,” the messenger replied with a shrug. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”

Confused, Holst broke the seal and pried the envelope open. Tossing the envelope aside, he unfolded the letter and began to read.

_Lord Holst,_

_If you are reading this, then it means Derdriu has fallen and I did not survive the battle. I would have hoped Edelgard had exercised better judgment, but I must plan for every possible outcome. _

_However, before I tell you my final plan, I should explain something first. Yes, I did summon the Almyran reinforcements. I should have told you earlier, but I am close friends with their commander. You know him as ‘Nader the Undefeated’. I know you’ve fought him before, and I realize you think of the Almyrans as an enemy. But Almyra is much larger than Fódlan, and, given the incentive, could launch an invasion on a scale not seen in centuries. And I’m not talking about just a land invasion via Fódlan’s Throat – there is a sea route that leads directly to the port of Derdriu as well._

_My plan, therefore, hinges on two things – how Almyra acts, and how you react. If Almyra does nothing, then the Alliance falls under Edelgard’s rule and there is no further bloodshed. You will not need to do anything._

_If Almyra invades, however, you will have two options. As the protector of Fódlan’s Throat, you alone can make this decision. I cannot force you to side with former enemies, but in a time like this, it may be the last chance of salvation for the Leicester Alliance. I’m afraid I cannot be more explicit about the details – that I will have to leave up to you. _

_But please, if nothing else, talk to Hilda when she gets home. Talk to Nader, if you get the chance. I gave them both explicit orders to retreat if Derdriu was lost. They can explain this in greater detail. And, regardless of what you decide to do, be on your guard. I wouldn’t put it past Edelgard to have spies planted in every former Alliance territory. On that note, you should destroy this letter as soon as you finish reading it._

_Again, I didn’t think it likely this letter would ever need to be sent, but I had to plan for everything – even my own death. I leave the future of the Alliance in your hands._

_Sincerely,_

_Claude von Riegan_

Holst re-folded the letter. Still clutching the crinkled document, his hands slowly fell to his sides. Claude’s words sent him into shock all over again.

“…Lord Holst?” the messenger asked.

Holst snapped back to reality. Despite still processing everything he had just heard and read, he dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand. He needed to figure this out – alone.

“Unless you have further business, you should go,” he said. “Claude probably told you this already, but I’ll say it myself: do not speak of this to anyone. You were never here.”

The messenger gave a shaky salute.

“Yes, milord.”

With that, he hurried back down the steps. He mounted his horse, which waited for him next to a tree on the side of the road. They took off at a gallop. Holst waited until the messenger disappeared from view, then glanced back down at Claude’s letter. After having held them back for several minutes, the general finally allowed some of his tears to fall.

“Damn you, Claude…”

He picked up the discarded envelope and headed inside. He went directly to the fireplace. It being only the first days of the Pegasus Moon, and thus still freezing cold out, the servants had already prepared a roaring fire. Holst stood inches away from the flames, acting as if he were merely warming himself. He then discreetly dropped both the envelope and the letter into the fire.

A set of slow and heavy footfalls alerted him to his father entering the room. The older duke wandered in, his cloak dragging on the floor behind him. The soft, metallic clicking of spurs that accompanied each step indicated he had his riding boots on as well.

Holst trained his gaze on the fire, despite any curiosity on where his father might be going. He stared intensely at the remnants of Claude’s letter, willing it to burn faster.

“Holst?”

Duke Goneril rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. Holst looked up with a start.

“Is something the matter?” Goneril asked.

“I just received a report from Derdriu,” Holst replied.

Goneril nodded. But as he studied the look on Holst’s face, his own brow creased with worry.

“...And?”

“She’s gone.”

“What?”

“Hilda… She died defending the city.”

Goneril let go of Holst’s shoulder. He took a step back, and for a minute, seemed like he was trying to catch his breath. Like the words had struck a physical blow.

“No…” he said. He paused, blinking back tears. “She can’t be… no…”

Holst shook his head and looked back at the fire. By now, the letter had been totally consumed.

“And in the end, the city was lost anyway,” Holst went on. “Even with reinforcements, Claude couldn’t hold it.”

Though Goneril regained his composure, he still looked lost.

“What reinforcements?” he asked. “I thought -”

“According to the report, there were Almyran forces present,” Holst replied. “Claude must have summoned them.”

Goneril shot his son a double take.

“How was House Riegan able to summon _Almyran_ reinforcements?” he asked.

Holst shook his head again, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“I don’t know – maybe Claude had connections we don’t know about,” he lied. “But I know they didn’t get past the Throat, so they must have come in by a sea route.”

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

“Not that it did him any good in the end,” he continued. “He’s dead – Emperor Edelgard had him executed after the battle.”

Duke Goneril was momentarily lost for words. While Holst paused to collect his own thoughts, a tense silence fell on the room.

“It’s all been for naught,” Holst said, voice breaking. “Hilda gave her life for nothing. Derdriu has fallen, our leader is dead, the Alliance has collapsed…”

Goneril sighed, reaching for his son again.

“Holst…”

Holst pushed his father’s hand away.

“My son, please!”

Holst paid his father no heed. Instead, he retreated to his quarters without another word. He locked the door and sat down at his desk. He then held his head in his hands and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

Holst paced back and forth on the balcony like a caged lion.

A week had already passed since the fall of Derdriu. A few days shy of that had gone by since he received Claude’s letter. And already the Empire was making its presence felt across the Alliance.

As expected, Imperial soldiers arrived and occupied Goneril territory. A garrison even marched up to the Goneril estate itself. It seemed Edelgard intended to keep an especially close eye on territories that had formed the anti-Imperial faction of the old Alliance. Even after Duke Goneril officially surrendered, soldiers patrolled the estate, watching his every move.

They were not openly rude, inhospitable, or hostile. But their presence still grated on the duke and his son. It was a constant reminder of their defeat. That they had lost their freedom.

Even as he paced on the balcony in his own home, Holst could feel the eyes of the soldiers stationed below constantly watching him.

A knock on the door of his room brought him and his brooding to an abrupt halt.

“Lord Holst?” called the voice of a female servant from the other side of the door. “Sir, dinner is served…”

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a minute.”

The servant did not respond. Her muffled footsteps quickly faded into silence as she retreated back down the stairs.

Gripping the balustrade, Holst looked out on the horizon, at the fog-obscured mountains of Fódlan’s Throat. Normally the walls and towers of Fódlan’s Locket could also be seen from the estate, but not today.

Holst leaned forward. Looking at the mountains got him to thinking.

Just beyond those mountains lay Almyra. Claude had warned of the possibility of an Almyran invasion, but failed to give a clear reason why. In all of Holst’s years battling with them, not once had the Almyrans given any indication of seriously attempting to cross the Throat. He couldn’t see any reason why Almyra would suddenly launch a large-scale invasion now. And the ‘eastern menace’ had remained silent so far. Claude had to be either wrong or lying.

But still the words nagged at him. Almyra would have to have a compelling reason to invade, that much was certain. But to invade now, that reason had to be connected to the events at Derdriu.

Holst shook his head. He pounded his fist on the balustrade in frustration. There was information missing. Crucial information.

Hilda had probably known the details. But whatever Claude had told her, that information was now lost. Forever.

There was only one other person likely to know. But for all Holst knew, that man was dead as well.

An icy wind blew in from the mountains. Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, Holst glared in the direction of the Locket. Thinking about it again, he realized the Throat was still covered in the winter’s snow. It would be weeks before it became passable.

Maybe Claude wasn’t wrong. Maybe the Almyrans were biding their time.

He jumped at the sound of another knock on his door.

“What?” he said.

“Lord Holst… it’s been several minutes… are you coming to dinner?”

Holst sighed. It was the servant again.

He left the balcony, going over to the door. He pulled it open with such force that the servant girl jumped. Whatever she was going to say, she had to leave it unsaid as Holst strode wordlessly past her. She struggled to keep up as she followed him downstairs.

Holst made his way into the dining room, joining his father at the table. The dinner had already been served.

“There you are,” Goneril said. “Are you ill, boy? I was starting to wonder if you’d make it.”

Holst sat down. A servant approached, offering him a drink. He waved them away.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Goneril sipped his wine.

“You don’t look it.”

Taking up his silverware, Holst began picking at the food on his plate. He took a couple of bites, chewing slowly. A minute went by as he ate in silence. Goneril looked pointedly at his son, but got no response.

“Holst.”

The young general swallowed his last bite and set his fork down.

“What’s the latest report from the Locket?” he asked finally.

Goneril frowned.

“The Locket?” he repeated. “Er, nothing, so far as I’m aware. Why do you ask?”

“House Goneril is responsible for protecting the Throat,” Holst said matter-of-factly. “I have to stay updated. We can never be too prepared.”

The duke nodded.

“I suppose that’s true…” he said. He paused, then added, “You think the news of the Alliance’s defeat is going to invite an attack from Almyra?”

Holst stabbed one of the mushrooms with his fork, then shoved it into his mouth. As he chewed, he stole a quick glance around the room. Meanwhile, Goneril merely shook his head.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried it, thinking the border would be more vulnerable,” Goneril continued.

“Yes,” Holst said. “Those brutes may not have the strongest grasp of strategy, but anything can happen.”

“So…” Goneril pushed his empty plate away. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing. Aside from keeping our usual watch on the border, that is.”

Holst pushed his plate away as well, despite leaving half the food untouched. “Hm. It seems I was not as hungry as I thought. I’m going for a walk.”

With that, the young general rose from his seat and walked out. Confused, the duke simply finished his wine and then rose from his seat as well. Once the two noblemen were out of the room, the servants took over clearing the table.

Just as he said he would, Holst went outside. He earned a strange look from the Imperial soldiers stationed at the doors, but they raised no objection to the general walking around the gardens in the front of the estate. They did, however, send a man to tail him.

Holst wandered the gardens, seemingly aimlessly, for over ten minutes. Walking among and admiring the section of winter-blooming flowers. Occasionally he would stop and pick one. Over the course of those ten minutes, he accumulated quite the arrangement in his hand. Carrying the fistful of flowers in one hand, Holst made his last stop over by the camellias. He plucked one, placed it with the other flowers, and then froze in place.

A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. A human shadow.

Holst turned in the direction the shadow had gone, feigning interest in the adjacent camellia plant. In reality, he glanced surreptitiously every direction he could without turning his head.

Moving over as if to look at a different plant, Holst turned again. He lowered his head, still pretending to be going after flowers. At the same time, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the other flowerbeds and bushes.

“…There.”

He plucked another camellia. Then, straightening his posture, he headed back to the mansion.

He did not go to his own chambers, but rather to Hilda’s old room. Closing the door behind him, he then placed the flowers in a vase on her desk. Stepping back, Holst paused for a moment.

No dust had collected anywhere in the room. Though the servants had kept the room maintained when Hilda initially set out for Derdriu, Holst thought they would have stopped when news of her death reached House Goneril. However, judging by the immaculate condition of the place, someone had likely cleaned just yesterday.

On the desk, beside the vase, lay a stack of letters. Old correspondence between her and Holst from her days at the Officers Academy. Looking at the stack, Holst’s eyes widened a bit. He had written her far more often than he remembered. And Hilda kept every single letter.

Holst closed his eyes.

“Hilda…”

The room stayed quiet for a minute. Holst stayed rooted to the spot, not wanting to move. Eventually, however, he did open his eyes and turn to leave.

* * *

As the final days of the Pegasus Moon went by, the weather improved. The freezing winds died down. No more snow fell. In fact, the skies stayed clear into the following month.

With the first days of the Lone Moon came the first hints of spring. Temperatures rose ever so slightly. The snow in the mountains gradually began to melt. Hints of green appeared in the valley and surrounding hills.

For the first time in months, Holst felt like he could leave the mansion without his heavy cloak. One afternoon, he went for a ride in the foothills, leaving the heavy winter gear in his room.

His tail followed him. However, by this point, Holst had gotten used to the spy’s presence. As long as simple spying was his only objective, Holst didn’t care. There was nothing for the spy to see.

Until he heard something from Fódlan’s Locket, Holst would keep everything to himself.

He rode along one of the foothill trails that led to the base of the mountains. Coming to a halt, he rested his hands on the pommel of the saddle. He turned his gaze upward, to the mountains of Fódlan’s Throat. The afternoon sun had burned away the fog, making the Locket clearly visible. Given the distance, however, only parts of its walls and towers could be seen.

Turning his gaze down to the mountain road leading into the fort, Holst noted the lack of snow. The roads were passable now.

Something moved near the gates of the fort, immediately catching Holst’s attention. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as if that would somehow enable him to see that far away. Whatever it was, it disappeared around the corner of a switchback on the road.

“What was that…”

Holst stared at the mountain for another minute, then gave up. Perhaps he had only imagined it. Nudging his horse, he resumed his ride. He circled around, getting ready to ride back down to the estate.

Another movement from the mountain caught his eye again. Holst pulled his horse to a halt.

There was no mistaking it this time. Something was making its way down the mountain road, and fast. Much too fast for someone on foot. This had to be someone on horseback, riding at full gallop.

Holst continued to watch their descent. Every once in a while, the twisty mountain road would seemingly disappear into the mountainside, but the rider always reappeared further down. They got halfway down the mountain, still going at a gallop, and showing no signs of slowing down.

Spurring his own horse, Holst doubled back. There was only one reason for someone to ride out of that fort with such speed.

Holst nudged his horse up to a gallop. He raced back into the foothills, heading for the base of the mountain.

A second set of horses’ hooves followed behind him. Holst cursed under his breath, but there was nothing he could do. He kept going.

While he rode, he watched the approaching rider out of the corner of his eye as best he could. Once he reached the base of the mountain, and had to navigate the twisty road himself, that became impossible. But he kept going. They would run into each other eventually.

At some point, the sounds of the horse behind him disappeared. The only set of hooves Holst could hear were those of his own horse. Though curious, he resisted the urge to stop and investigate. Whatever the spy was doing, he’d deal with it later.

Minutes later, he heard more hoofbeats, coming from up ahead this time. Within seconds, the other rider came into view. Seeing Holst already approaching, they pulled their horse to a halt. Holst did the same.

The rider swayed in the saddle. His face was pale with shock. He took several deep breaths, exhausted from the grueling ride.

“Lord Holst!” the rider called once he could breathe again. “Thank the goddess…”

“What’s happened?” Holst asked.

The man pointed up, in the direction of the Locket.

“We’re under attack!” he said. “The Almyran army… it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen… I’ve never seen them assemble a force this large…”

Holst’s heart sank.

“I was sent to request reinforcements,” the rider continued. “General… we need you. I don’t… I don’t know if our defenses will hold.”

“All right. Calm yourself, man,” Holst said. “I will take command. You go on ahead. Tell my father that we need every able-bodied soldier we have sent up to the Locket.”

The rider saluted.

“Sir!”

Both men then spurred their horses again. The messenger continued his ride down the mountain. Holst resumed his ride up. Pushing his horse as hard as he dared on the mountain terrain, the general raced up to the fort.

Claude was right after all. Almyra had decided to invade. But Holst still didn’t know _why._

What felt like an eternity later, Holst rode up to the gates of Fódlan’s Locket. Seeing his approach, the soldiers at the gate immediately raised it and let him in. Holst rode into the courtyard, allowing his exhausted horse to slow to a walk. He practically fell out of the saddle himself, and with the help of a couple of soldiers, stayed on his feet long enough to walk up to the ramparts.

Leaning on the wall for support, Holst looked out on the field below.

“Goddess above…”

A sea of soldiers covered the landscape. Division after division of Almyrans marched across the pass, advancing toward the Locket. Goneril soldiers tried to slow their advance with arrows, spears, and magic, but the enemy’s sheer numbers meant they would reach the gates eventually.

Holst scanned the battlefield, feeling his heart sink further. If the enemy’s numbers were not indication enough of their intent, the Almyrans had now deployed something Holst had never seen them use before – a battering ram. And from the look of things, it would be upon the Locket’s gates in a matter of minutes.

At the same time, Almyran wyverns filled the skies. Their riders harassed the soldiers on the walls, flying in just close enough to unleash a flurry of arrows and spears before flying back out of range of the Goneril soldiers’ own bows.

Among the wyvern riders, two stood out. One was that famous battle-scarred general Holst had fought before – General Nader. He evaded the Goneril archers’ arrows with effortless ease, then answered them with arrows of his own. Holst watched the man’s movements for a few seconds.

“So he survived…”

A wyvern’s roar drew the general’s gaze upward – to the other rider that had caught his attention.

This man rode a white wyvern; a stark contrast to the flock of black and brown wyverns clouding the sky. He was dressed in elaborate black and gold armor and, like Nader, wielded a bow. At a guess, Holst would say this man was either of equal or higher rank than Nader. These two men were the leaders.

Goneril soldiers screamed and scattered. The Almyran wyvern riders were flying in for another volley.

“Stand your ground!” Holst bellowed. “Ready your bows! Shoot them down as they approach!”

Needing a weapon himself, Holst yanked a bow from the grip of one of the dead, then stripped the quiver. He nocked an arrow and waited.

Nader and the man on the white wyvern led the charge. Both sides unleashed their volleys.

The sky turned dark with arrows for half a second. When the sky cleared, the air was then filled with screams of agony. Soldiers fell from the ramparts, and wyverns fell from the sky. Ignoring the carnage around him, Holst nocked another arrow, scanning the sky for the white wyvern. Half a second later, he found him.

Having evaded the volley somehow, the rider of the white wyvern swooped back down, another arrow already nocked. He flew dangerously close to the walls before releasing the arrow and climbing skyward again.

In that millisecond after the man released the arrow, but before he began his ascent, Holst was finally able to get a glimpse of his face. The Alliance general dropped his bow in shock.

This Almyran general bore an uncanny resemblance to Claude. He looked older, had a fuller beard, and his face was lined with battle scars, but was otherwise the spitting image of the late Alliance leader. The resemblance was so strong, in fact, that Holst almost believed it was Claude himself astride that wyvern.

“What the hell?” Holst gasped. “That’s impossible…”

He stood slack-jawed for only a second longer, then forced himself back to reality. He picked up the bow again, readying another shot.

His mind raced a mile a minute. Though he couldn’t see it from where he stood, he knew the battering ram would reach the gates any minute. In the meantime, their last volley hadn’t thinned the ranks of the wyvern riders enough for his liking. Especially since the two enemy generals were still up there.

The rider of the white wyvern shouted a command in Almyran. The wyvern riders assembled themselves, preparing for another volley.

“Ballistas!” Holst yelled. “Aim your shots at their center!”

The Almyrans let out a battle cry and charged.

Holst nocked an arrow. Running out of options and time, there was one thing he had to try.

He aimed at General Nader.


	4. Chapter 4

Nader swerved out of the path of another arrow. The Goneril soldier responsible hurriedly nocked another arrow, but the Almyran general was faster. Circling back around, he took a second to aim, and then sent his shot straight into the man’s chest.

The archers on either side of the fallen soldier loosed their arrows. Nader had to lay flat on his wyvern’s back to dodge while the enemy’s arrow zipped overhead. The other arrow pierced the wing of the wyvern beside him, sending both beast and rider falling to the ground below. Their cries cut short a second later.

They had been going at this for hours now. Nader and his corps of wyvern riders relentlessly harassing the soldiers on the walls, rallying for a devastating volley every so often at King Kasirga’s command. It was a battle of attrition: trying to thin the enemy’s defenses and distract their archers while the battering ram slowly made its way to the gate. 

Until a familiar booming voice coming from the ramparts caught the Almyran general’s ear. He sat upright in the saddle, scanned the walls for the voice’s owner.

There he was. Commanding the defenses from the northeast corner. That redheaded giant of a man Nader had fought so many times before. General Holst Goneril.

Now that he thought about it, he did bear a passing resemblance to the pink-haired Goneril woman that fought with them at Derdriu. If he remembered right, Claude had said this man was her brother.

“Damn it…” Nader muttered, nocking another arrow.

The young Alliance general’s presence complicated things. The mere sight of the man had already boosted the Fódlan soldiers’ morale. And despite Almyra’s clear advantage, Nader had personal experience with General Holst’s battle prowess and commanding skill. Victory against him could prove costly.

Nader retreated from the walls momentarily, stealing a glance below to check the battering ram’s progress. He shook his head. Not close enough. He flew back into the fray, continuing to hammer away at the Goneril archers’ ranks.

The battle dragged on. Every few minutes, either Nader or King Kasirga would rally the wyvern companies for an all-out volley. Unfortunately, that tactic grew increasingly costly as the Goneril archers grew bolder with their counterfire. Thanks to the presence of that redheaded general.

King Kasirga flew right up to the fortress wall, firing a shot into the neck of one of the ballista operators. The man fell limp against the weapon. Two of his fellow soldiers quickly dragged the body away while another archer jumped into his place and took aim. Though the archer tried to avenge his fallen brother, Kasirga pulled his wyvern into a tight lateral roll, evading the shot. The ballista bolt flew past its target and landed somewhere in the field below. Kasirga then climbed out of reach of the archers and looped around.

“Ready the next volley!” the king yelled, coming level with the flying troops again. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver, making ready himself.

Nader also made ready. The rest of the wyvern corps assembled themselves around their two commanders. Arrows were nocked. They were ready to charge.

Kasirga let out a battle cry. The rest of the troops joined in and charged.

“Ballistas! Aim your shots at their center!”

The sound of General Holst’s voice drew Nader’s eyes back in his direction.

His eyes widened. The Fódlan general was aiming directly at him. But despite the oncoming wave of wyvern riders, he did not fire.

“General Nader!” he yelled instead.

In the instant Nader looked into the enemy general’s eyes, something immediately felt off. They were dulled – bereft of their usual fierceness, the thrill of battle Nader was used to seeing. Even more unusual, Holst had just tried to talk instead of fight. In the middle of a raging battle. Something was wrong, but Nader had only a split second to act.

There was only one thing he could do.

Holst fired. Nader aimed back at him and did the same. Before the king gave the order.

The two arrows collided in midair. They splintered and broke, falling harmlessly to the ground below.

General Holst stared at Nader in stunned silence. Unfortunately, the battle continued to rage on around him. King Kasirga gave the order to fire, and the sky filled with arrows again. The king fired and then immediately went into a steep upward climb. Nader followed him. Unlike his king, however, he did not reload.

The other wyvern riders tried to follow Nader and Kasirga’s maneuver, but too many were not fast enough. Dozens of wyverns and their riders fell from the sky as the enemy’s arrows found their mark.

Nader and Kasirga flew out of range to regroup, while the remaining wyvern riders caught up to them. The king glared at his general.

“What are you doing, Nader?” he demanded.

“Something’s wrong,” Nader replied. “That Goneril man -”

“He’s their commander,” Kasirga interrupted. “If we kill him, the enemy’s ranks will dissolve into chaos.”

Kasirga pulled out another arrow.

“General Nader!” General Holst called out again. “Why were the Almyran forces at Derdriu?”

The Fódlan general’s own men shot quizzical looks at him.

“Lord Holst? What do you think you’re doing?”

He ignored them. He continued walking along the wall, keeping his eye on Nader and Kasirga.

Kasirga nocked the arrow and flew toward the wall. He aimed at General Holst. Holst signaled the archers on the ballistae. They aimed at Kasirga. Holst and the king locked gazes.

Nader watched as every Goneril archer on the wall aimed at the king. Except for General Holst himself. The Fódlan general had not so much as drawn another arrow, nor lifted his bow. But he didn’t need to. If Kasirga flew in close enough to fire, he simply would not be able to evade that many arrows at once. Seeing the hopeless situation, the king gave up and looped back around. He stopped and hovered just out of range.

Meanwhile, a crashing noise from below drowned out the other sounds of battle. The battering ram had reached the gates.

General Holst looked up at Nader. He tried again.

“Answer me, General!” he yelled. “Why were you at Derdriu?!”

“That is none of your concern!”

The reply came from Kasirga, not Nader.

Kasirga raised his bow, rallying the wyvern riders to his side. They prepared for another volley. Nader flew over to join them, but did not load.

“Your Majesty, that man was one of Prince Arash’s allies,” Nader said. “He was also opposed to the Empire. Should we answer him?”

Kasirga narrowed his golden eyes. The battering ram crashed upon the gates again. From the sound of it, the gate was still holding, but not for much longer. Still, the king waited an agonizingly long time to give his answer.

“Whatever he was to Arash before, he is our enemy now,” Kasirga said. “If he’s going to stand between us and the emperor, we have no choice but to kill him.”

The battering ram hammered at the gates again. And again. The yelling from the ground swelled in volume.

“Make ready!” Kasirga commanded the troops, drawing an arrow himself.

Nader bit his lip. He too pulled an arrow from his quiver.

“Aim!”

On the wall, General Holst echoed the Almyran king’s commands, readying the Goneril soldiers for a counterattack.

Nader sighed. He couldn’t count on the arrow trick working twice. Not when there so many other arrows aimed in the same direction.

“Fire!”

Two volleys of arrows flew through the air. More soldiers on both sides fell. While Kasirga flew back around, Nader hurriedly scanned the ramparts.

General Holst dropped his bow. He cursed under his breath.

One of the Almyran arrows had hit its mark. It had struck him in the left shoulder. The sheer pain had caused him to drop his weapon. Gritting his teeth, Holst reached for the arrow.

“General!” one of the Goneril soldiers cried.

Holst seized the shaft. With one quick motion, he snapped the arrow in half. He tossed the fletched end aside, leaving the arrowhead impaled in his shoulder. Now that most of the arrow was out of his way, and as he got over the pain, he bent down and picked up his bow.

Someone ran up to him, bracing him as if they thought he was about to fall.

“Sir, that wound -”

Holst pushed them away.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“You need medical attention!”

“It’s fine! Leave me be!”

The soldier stared at their general, slack-jawed with shock.

“I am not leaving the battle,” Holst said adamantly. “Reinforcements are on the way. We _must _hold out until they arrive.”

The soldier nodded, mouth still hanging slightly open. They returned to their post.

But as Holst looked around, he noted just how grim the situation was. Much as he hated to admit it, their chances were slim at best. Not enough archers remained on the wall. Ammunition and morale were low. The gates would be breached any second. And his father’s reinforcements were likely still hours away. Holst hung his head.

A Goneril soldier came running up the stairs onto the ramparts of the northeast wall. He ran straight for Holst.

“Sir, the gate is breached!” the soldier said. “Almyran forces are already coming through. If that ram hits again, we won’t be able to hold them off -”

Another, deafening crash reverberated through the fort. The ground shook from the force of the gate crashing down. Almyran battle cries rang out from below as they charged the fort.

Holst swore. He couldn’t abandon the wall, but at the same time, he needed to get down to the ground if they were going to save the fort.

He tried lifting his bow, only to find his arm had grown weak. Glancing at his shoulder, he saw trickles of blood staining his armor and coat.

“Sir… you’re wounded!” the soldier said.

He rushed forward. Holst tried to push him away as well, but dropped his bow again in the process. The soldier braced Holst by his wounded arm.

“We need to get you to a healer,” he said.

“No! Get me a sword!” Holst protested. He followed the soldier to the stairs, only because he now intended to head that way. “I’m not leaving!”

The soldier on Holst’s arm cried out for a healer anyway. Fed up, Holst reached for the longsword on the soldier’s belt and drew it.

“Get back to the gate!” he barked. He descended the stairs, headed that direction himself.

Though his left arm throbbed with pain, he was still steady on his feet, and so Holst rushed down the stairs with no trouble. Breaking away from his would-be helper, he bolted for the gate, jumping in to help push back the tide of Almyran soldiers.

With the general having stolen his sword, the nonplussed Goneril soldier had to pull one from the hands of a fallen comrade. Unable to stop Holst from rushing into the fray, he had no choice but to join in himself. He let out a battle cry and charged.

Holst cut a bloody swath through the first company of Almyran soldiers to breach the gate. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, but he tore mercilessly through the Almyran forces with the sword in his right. Letting out a nearly bestial yell, Holst began pushing the Almyrans back.

Driven by desperation, his sword strokes hit with superhuman strength. He became immune to pain. His own blood mixed with his enemy’s and he barely noticed. Even when an Almyran shamshir tore open his side, Holst pressed the attack, not giving the wound so much as a second glance. He buried his own sword up to the hilt in the other man’s chest. Then he yanked the weapon back out and kicked the man’s corpse back at his comrades. As the fighting dragged on, the bodies of fallen soldiers piled up, making it harder for the Almyrans to get into the fort.

Minutes later, the battling finally slowed down. Thanks largely to Holst’s desperation-driven frenzy, the initial wave of Almyrans was wiped out. The Goneril soldiers paused to catch their breath.

“Steel yourselves,” Holst said as he too panted for air. “The next wave will be here soon.”

Yet as time went on, he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. As the adrenaline wore off, exhaustion and blood loss caught up to him. Now he could barely walk in a straight line.

The blood dripping from his wounds left a trail of red behind him. He stopped walking around for half a second, only for a wave of vertigo to send him falling face first to the floor.

He barely registered the fearful cries from his men. His head swam, the grounds of the fort spinning around him. Everything became blurry and distant. Colors muted. Sounds distorted.

“Hold… the fort…” he said.

Then everything went black.

* * *

He woke up to the sounds of men groaning in pain. Immediately going into a panic, Holst flailed about in an attempt to get on his feet. He instantly regretted it.

Searing pain in his left shoulder and right side almost made him black out. He fell back into his original position – flat on his back. He was unable to move at all for several seconds.

Blinking back tears, Holst was forced to wait for the pain to subside before doing anything else. As his heart rate returned to normal, and he stopped panicking, he stopped to take in his surroundings.

Aside from the occasional groan of pain, the room was quiet. Holst slowly propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look around.

Beds occupied with wounded soldiers lined all four walls. The only gaps were at the doorways, through which healers regularly came and went. But there was something strange about these healers. They were not wearing standard Fódlan priest or cleric robes. In fact, the patterns on their sashes looked more Almyran in origin.

One of the healers approached Holst’s bed. Her brown complexion, and the language she muttered to herself in confirmed the young general’s suspicions.

She set about changing the bandages on Holst’s wounds. Holst took a deep breath, holding it in the whole time. She said something to him in a scolding tone, but Holst didn’t know enough Almyran to figure out what she said.

As the healer woman finished dressing the Alliance general’s wounds, the doors opened again. But it was not one of the healers this time. Instead, two men walked in. Men that Holst immediately recognized from the battle earlier. He pushed himself up into a seated position. The girl scolded him again, but backed away.

Nader called out to the healer. They exchanged a few words while the other man watched in silence. Holst ignored Nader and the woman. He fixed his eyes on the man in the black and gold armor. The man who looked too much like Claude.

The Almyran cleric left the infirmary. Nader and the other Almyran general walked over to Holst’s bed this time.

“By the gods, you survived after all!” Nader said, switching seamlessly to the Fódlan language. He turned to the other general and said something else, going back to Almyran.

Holst eyed both men suspiciously. His memory of the battle came back to him.

“The gate…” he said. “The gates were breached…”

Nader frowned. “Yes, but you weren’t at the gates,” he said, switching languages again. “You were already in here by the time we captured the fort.”

Holst blinked.

“After your troops surrendered, we started moving the wounded of both sides in here for treatment,” Nader continued. “That’s when we found you. Your own healers were working to save you.”

“So you let me live?”

The other general cleared his throat.

“We have more honor than to kill an enemy commander after his army has already surrendered,” he said.

Holst’s eyebrows shot up. This man did speak Fódlanese after all.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Kasirga,” the general replied. “I am the king of Almyra. And the whirlwind that is going to destroy Fódlan.”

Holst froze. He closed his eyes, going over the words again in his mind. He thought back to Claude’s letter.

“_Almyra is much larger than Fódlan, and, given the incentive, could launch an invasion on a scale not seen in centuries…”_

“You are fortunate that your men surrendered when they did,” Kasirga went on. “I would not have hesitated to kill you for standing between me and the Adrestian emperor. Just like I will not hesitate to kill anyone else who does the same.”

“I see.” Holst reopened his eyes. “Then you’re not here to destroy Fódlan; you’re here to kill Emperor Edelgard.”

“With her death, Fódlan will fall.”

“Not quite.”

Kasirga crossed his arms.

“What?” he said.

“Emperor Edelgard has been waging a five-year long war to bring Fódlan under her rule,” Holst explained. “She does not control the entire continent yet.”

“It’s true,” Nader chimed in.

Kasirga shot a questioning look at Nader. They started talking to each other in Almyran.

“A quick question, Your Majesty,” Holst interrupted.

Kasirga and Nader stopped.

“Go on,” Kasirga said.

“Almyra has almost no dealings with the Adrestian Empire that I know of,” Holst said. “And yet, the Almyran army comes out of nowhere, with an invasion force larger than anything I’ve ever seen, with you, their king, wanting the emperor’s head. Why?”

“She killed my only son.”

Even though Holst had suspected as much, the king’s words still hit him like a punch to the gut.

That explained the uncanny resemblance. It explained how Claude knew how Almyra would act. And why Claude seemed keen on getting Holst to ally with them.

Now that he had all the information, Holst knew what Claude’s plan was.

“Your son, Claude…”

“That was his Fódlan name, but yes,” Kasirga said. “Nader told me he was killed at Derdriu.”

Holst nodded.

“I received a letter from him afterward,” Holst said. “He warned me of the possibility of an Almyran invasion if he was killed. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that until now.”

“He wasn’t just my son; he was the prince,” Kasirga said. “The emperor may not even be aware of what she’s done, but it doesn’t matter. She has provoked Almyra’s wrath, and nothing will stop us.”

“I know that.” Holst put up his hands as if surrendering. “But if Your Majesty will permit me to ask one more question…”

“…Fine.”

But before Holst could get the question out, a sentry busted the infirmary door open. Hanging onto the doorframe with one hand, he looked wildly around. Locating his king, he pointed outside and yelled something in Almyran.

Kasirga muttered something under his breath and ran to the door.

“What’s going on?” Holst asked.

“It seems your reinforcements are here,” Nader said. He took off after his king.

“Reinfor – oh, of course.” Holst buried his face in his hands. “Damn it…”

He looked at the fresh bandaging over his right side. He massaged his left shoulder.

He requested those reinforcements himself. And they had arrived right on schedule. But now that the Almyran king controlled the Locket, and now that Holst finally understood what Claude meant in the letter, things had just gotten infinitely more complicated.

“Wait!”

Knowing he would regret it, Holst jumped out of the bed anyway and ran to catch up to Nader.


	5. Chapter 5

“Troubling news, Your Majesty.”

Emperor Edelgard looked up from the mountain of papers on the table. Hubert closed the door behind him, then strode directly up to where Edelgard sat at the conference table. The distress in her vassal’s voice alone warranted concern, but Hubert’s already ashen complexion was even paler than normal. Even Byleth looked up from their paperwork. They set their pen down and gave Hubert their full attention.

“What is it, Hubert?” Edelgard asked.

“I just received a report from Count Bergliez,” Hubert said. “The Almyran army has invaded Fódlan.”

He held out a letter, the seal of which had already been broken. Edelgard took the letter but did not read yet. She waited for Hubert to finish.

“They have already captured Fódlan’s Locket,” Hubert continued. “Our most recent scout reports indicate they are now pushing west.”

Edelgard frowned.

“How did they manage to capture the Locket?” she asked. “House Goneril is in charge of protecting the Throat; Lord Holst would have -”

Hubert shook his head.

“The Goneril forces were overrun,” he said. “And we haven’t heard from either Lord Holst or Duke Goneril since. It’s likely they were both killed.”

“What about the Imperial garrison we had stationed in Goneril territory?”

“Lord Holst requested their aid, but the fort had already fallen by the time they arrived.”

“Have we sent reinforcements?”

“Your Majesty… Goneril territory is overrun. The informant that relayed this information to Count Bergliez barely escaped with his life.”

Edelgard sighed and leaned back against the chair. With her free hand, she ran her fingers through her hair. A few seconds passed in silence, and then she finally looked at Bergliez’s letter. She allowed Byleth to read over her shoulder.

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Ten _thousand?_” she said in disbelief. “Hubert, are you certain this report is accurate?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hubert said gravely. “The scout reports we’ve received over the past few days all reported similar numbers.”

Edelgard went back to the letter. When she finished reading, she looked straight ahead at the wall. Her hand fell open, allowing the letter to fall on top of the other papers.

It was unheard of. An invasion force that easily matched the Empire’s full strength. A once impregnable fortress fallen. The border territory overrun seemingly overnight. All with no warning. 

Byleth rested a hand on their chin. They scanned the letter over and over. Each reread set their eyebrows lower, and their eyes increasingly clouded with confusion. Finally, they gave up and looked to Hubert.

“I don’t understand,” they said. “Why launch an invasion, of this scale, now? What are they after?”

Hubert sighed, looking almost as lost as his teacher.

“That is still unclear,” he said. “Almyra’s previous clashes with the Alliance never amounted to more than simple border skirmishes. But now they have not only invaded, but there are rumors that the Almyran king himself is leading them.”

Edelgard’s frown deepened.

“We can’t trust rumors,” she said.

“No, but I trust Count Bergliez’s report,” Hubert said. “Not only is General Nader among the Almyran forces, but there was another commander there with him we have not seen before. A man said to have unparalleled skill with a bow, and that flies astride a white wyvern.”

Byleth shifted on their feet, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“That sounds… strangely familiar…” they muttered.

“Didn’t we fight General Nader at Derdriu?” Edelgard said. “He commanded the Almyran reinforcements that Claude…”

She never finished the sentence. Her eyes widened for half a second as something suddenly occurred to her. Something she had previously not thought possible.

“We did,” Hubert said. He still looked lost. “Your Majesty, is something -”

“I’m fine,” Edelgard said quickly. She waved a hand as if to dismiss the subject. “But this is a serious threat, and we must answer it.”

“…Of course.”

Hubert sifted through the papers on the table to find a map of Fódlan. Pushing the paperwork aside, he made a space for the map. He spread it out flat for the three of them to see.

“Do we need to adjust our strategy?” Byleth asked.

“The longer we delay in invading the Kingdom, the more time they will have to prepare,” Hubert cautioned. “But at the same time, we cannot risk being attacked on two sides.”

“We may have to divide our army,” Edelgard said. “If the Black Eagle Strike Force maintains its current objective while we deploy the rest of our forces to Alliance territory…”

“We would be dividing our forces in the face of a numerically superior enemy,” Hubert said with a grimace. “I don’t like it. If we could ascertain the enemy’s exact target, and focus on the defenses there, we would stand a better chance.”

“What is their target?” Byleth asked.

The three of them looked down at the map. Taking out a handful of coins, Hubert began placing them on the map. He placed one on Garreg Mach, another at the Great Bridge of Myrddin, and a third at Derdriu.

“They could be after any one of these,” he said.

“The reinforcements Bergliez requested from Fort Merceus will defend Garreg Mach and the Bridge,” Edelgard said. She pointed at the coin Hubert had placed at Derdriu. “Why this one? What strategic advantage could they get from retaking Derdriu?”

“Remember that Claude’s reinforcements came by sea,” Hubert explained. “That must mean there is a sea route between Derdriu and Almyra.”

“No.”

Hubert and Edelgard stopped. They turned to look quizzically at Byleth.

“They would send their navy to retake it,” Byleth said. “At most, the land force would rendezvous with them there.”

They leaned down, tracing a path from Derdriu north. They stopped in Margrave Edmund’s territory, tapping their finger on the port.

“Any Almyran ships headed to Derdriu would have to pass by here – Port Ulster,” Byleth said. “If that was their strategy, the people in Edmund’s territory would see it first.”

“I see,” Hubert said. He slid the coin from Derdriu to Ulster. “So if the Almyran navy does try to attack, we could intercept them there.”

“That still leaves us with the problem of the Almyran army on land,” Edelgard said. “The pro-Imperial Alliance forces in combination with Lord Arundel and Count Bergliez’s own garrison won’t be enough to hold them off.”

The three of them fell silent for a moment. They each retreated into their own heads, racking their brains to come up with a strategy. Hubert folded his arms and stared at the map with furrowed brow. Edelgard leaned forward in her chair, interlacing her fingers. Byleth stared unblinkingly at the map. After a few seconds, they began nervously tapping their foot.

Finally, Byleth broke the silence.

“We have to trap them,” they said.

* * *

King Kasirga had his wyvern perched on the southwestern wall of the Locket. With his bow at full draw, he stared down at the commander of the reinforcements, waiting for him to make a move.

This man was another redhead, just like Holst. Though his hair had a noticeable gray tint to it, and he did slightly resemble Holst, making it seem likely this was his father. Not that it made a difference to the Almyran king.

The beating of a wyvern’s wings from behind him broke his concentration. Turning his head, but keeping his bow drawn and aimed down, Kasirga looked to see Nader flying up to join him on the wall.

And he had brought a passenger.

Nader’s wyvern perched beside Kasirga’s. Seated just behind Nader on the edge of the saddle, and still clinging to it for dear life, was General Holst. While Nader hopped out of the saddle with ease, Holst was hesitant. He gingerly stepped down. Only once both his feet touched the ramparts did he let go of the saddle.

“Nader…” Kasirga growled.

Nader put up both hands. “He insisted!”

Holst approached Kasirga and his wyvern.

“King Kasirga, my father is leading those reinforcements,” he said. “Please, let me talk to them. There is no need for further bloodshed today.”

Kasirga did not reply. He merely turned his head to look back down at the army assembled on the ground. Holst walked up to the parapet. He followed Kasirga’s gaze down to the red-haired general at the front.

Duke Goneril sat on a gray horse, both hands on the reins. He had called a halt, and now both his troops on the ground and the Almyrans on the wall were at a standstill. Both sides looked to their commanders, waiting for the order. Kasirga kept his bow drawn as he spoke to Holst.

“What are you going to do, shout from the walls and beg your father to surrender?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Holst rested his fists on the parapet, lowering his head.

“That is the only thing I can do,” he said. “Besides, if your son’s plan is going to work, we need to work together.”

“What?”

Kasirga shot Holst a double take. Any further protest he might have had was cut off when Holst proceeded to do exactly as Kasirga said.

“Father!” he shouted.

Duke Goneril blinked, looking twice up at the wall. He paled with shock at seeing his own son standing next to the Almyran commander. Taking a breath, the duke forced himself to regain composure. At least the boy was alive.

“Holst?!” he shouted back.

“Father, believe me when I say the Almyran force far outmatches us,” Holst said. “I don’t want any more lives wasted trying to reclaim this fort. Order your troops to lay down arms.”

Goneril looked at Kasirga, and then back at Holst.

“Our force was overwhelmed long before you even got here,” Holst went on. “Father, please surrender. I will explain everything.”

Goneril backed his horse a couple of paces, now looking thoroughly lost. He exchanged glances with his deputy commander.

“Has Lord Holst lost his mind?” the deputy said. “Cooperating with the Almyrans, of all people…”

The duke bit his lip. He continued to stare up at the wall, at the hundreds of Almyran bows drawn and pointed at him and his troops.

No one knew Fódlan’s Locket better than the Goneril family. Its layout, its massive store of supplies, the strategic placement of every defensive weapon. The duke knew that his army would struggle to reclaim a fort like this even against a small garrison. He shuddered to think what kind of force awaited them within those walls. And the thought of what the Almyran army could do to his troops with everything now at their disposal made his stomach turn.

“It seems I don’t have a choice,” he muttered.

“Sir?” the deputy asked.

Goneril ignored him. He locked gazes with the Almyran commander – the man on the white wyvern. He drew his sword.

Then he tossed it to the ground.

“I will surrender,” he said. “All I ask is that no harm come to my men.”

He turned around. Though gasps of astonishment rippled through the ranks, the troops nevertheless did as the duke said. They dropped their weapons.

Goneril’s deputy drew back in shock. But the duke paid him no heed. His attention was now fixed on Kasirga.

The king instantly relaxed upon seeing the duke throw his sword down in surrender. He put his arrow back in the quiver. Then he signaled the Almyran troops to stand down. Taking up the reins, he flew down to the ground, landing right in front of Goneril. Nader followed, although he paused long enough to allow Holst to ride as passenger again.

“What are we doing?” Holst asked.

“I thought you wanted to talk this out,” Nader said. “Come on.”

Holst nodded. He jumped back into the saddle, gripping it as tightly as he could and clenching his teeth in preparation. Nader nudged his wyvern and it took to the air. They climbed for less than a second before making a rapid descent toward the ground. They touched down just behind Kasirga.

Once all three men were dismounted, they stood in front of Goneril. Goneril dismounted from his horse as well, but as he approached, a fearful gasp escaped his lips.

“Holst!” he exclaimed. “Your wounds…!”

“I’m fine,” Holst said. “For now, we have more important things to discuss.”

Kasirga turned around and shouted an order at his men. A handful of Almyran soldiers then went to open the gates. Turning back to the duke, he jerked his head in the direction of the gates. Goneril looked questioningly at Holst.

“Come inside,” Holst said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

At Kasirga’s insistence, they gathered in the war room. Aside from the armed guards posted at the door, the king, Nader, and the two Fódlan generals were the only ones in the room. The two Almyran men seated themselves first. Holst and his father then seated themselves opposite them.

“All right, General, this was your idea,” Nader said. “What do you need to tell us?”

“It’s more of a request,” Holst said. “But it requires some explanation.”

“The question you were about to ask me, before your father showed up,” Kasirga said.

Holst nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But before I ask, let me tell you everything.”

Kasirga leaned back. He gestured for the young general to continue.

“After Derdriu fell, a messenger arrived with the news,” Holst began. “And a letter. From Claude. In the letter, he warned of the possibility of an Almyran invasion, and suggested that I ally with the Almyran forces if that happened. At the time, I thought nothing of it. It didn’t make sense to me.

“I’d heard about the Almyran reinforcements. And Claude did say he was friends with you, Nader – but that was all he said. It wasn’t until our battle today that I finally understood what Claude was talking about.”

Goneril slammed a hand down on the table.

“Hold a moment,” he said. “You never said anything about a letter. What is going on?”

“I realize now that the letter was actually a contingency plan,” Holst went on. “A plan to defeat Edelgard and save the Alliance if he was killed.”

Kasirga’s eyebrows rose.

“You’re saying he was counting on us invading?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Nader put up a hand to stop Holst before he could go on.

“Hang on a minute,” he said. “I know the kid was smart enough to plan something like that, but how do you expect Almyra to save the Alliance? We’re not exactly here for your sake.”

“True, but we have the same goal,” Holst answered. “We both want to defeat Edelgard. Besides, Leicester and Almyra have worked together before – at Derdriu. Claude’s plan is simply to continue that cooperation. He didn’t want the alliance between us to end with his death.”

“Alliance?”

Everyone in the room froze. The question had simultaneously come from both Kasirga and Duke Goneril. Now they and Nader stared at Holst in silent astonishment.

“It may not be my place to even ask, considering you are the victors,” Holst said to Kasirga, lowering his head. “But that was my request. That House Goneril be allowed to join you in the fight against the Empire. What say you?”

Ominous silence followed. The four men exchanged glances – Nader with Kasirga, and Goneril with his son. A minute passed.

A smirk played at Kasirga’s lips.

“That would be easier than holding you and your entire army prisoner,” he said. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, his smile faded. “But know that you would be under _my_ command. You will march under the Almyran banner. And if you even think of betraying us, I will personally cut you down.”

“…Understood.”

Duke Goneril’s jaw dropped.

“Holst, surrendering to them is one thing, but…” he began.

Holst shook his head.

“It’s our only chance to defeat the Empire,” he countered. “Besides, this was Claude’s idea to begin with. You’re not suggesting we go against our own leader’s plan?”

“But he’s dead!”

Holst stood up. That was enough of his father’s naysaying.

“And sitting right in front of us is his father, the Almyran king!” he snapped, pointing at Kasirga. “Remember that we’re at _his_ mercy! Or do you want to spend the rest of the war imprisoned in our own fort?”

Having stunned his own father into silence, Holst heaved a sigh and sat back down. He stole a nervous glance at Kasirga, half-expecting him to fly into a rage as well. To his relief, the king remained calm. On the outside, at least.

“Hmph, it looks like your father needs more time to consider,” Kasirga said in a mocking tone. He rose from his chair. “Tell him he’d better make up his mind quickly. We leave tomorrow. There’s a rendezvous waiting for us in Derdriu.”

Holst shot him a quizzical look.

“What?” he asked. “Who could possibly -”

Kasirga headed for the door. The guards pulled the door open for him and he left without another word. Nader got up and was about to follow.

“General,” Holst said. “What is he talking about?”

Nader smiled.

“We took a sea route from Almyra to Derdriu last time,” he said. “Let’s just say this isn’t our entire strength.”

* * *

As per the king’s plan, the Almyran fleet had set out about a week after the army went on the march. Despite contending with storms, the Almyran ships rounded the northeastern coast of Fódlan with minimal incident. If all went as planned, they would reach Derdriu at the same time as Kasirga’s army.

But before reaching Derdriu, they had to pass by another Fódlan port. Port Ulster, in Edmund territory.

After the fleet made it out of the last storm, the seas turned calm. Still, even. Only the movement of the ships, propelled by oars for the lack of wind, disturbed the surface of the water.

On the ship’s prow, overlooking the waters ahead, stood the commander of the other half of the Almyran forces. She had herself wrapped in a bright green and gold cloak, embroidered with Almyran patterns – a gift from her husband, and her first possession of Almyran origin. Only her head poked out from within the giant garment, her pale skin making her stand out among the Almyran soldiers and crew. Her forest green eyes were narrowed in determination.

The captain of the ship walked up, giving a quick bow before he began to speak.

“Your Highness, we are nearing Port Ulster,” he said.

The woman extended her arm out of the cloak, pointing out at the sea. The captain followed her gaze.

Several ships were approaching from the south.

“What are those ships?” she asked.

“Likely Alliance merchant ships,” the captain replied.

“Don’t be so sure,” the woman cautioned. “Look more closely. Are they armed? Whose flag are they flying?”

The captain pulled out his spyglass, looking at the ships again. He stood frozen in place for half a minute.

“That’s not…”

He lowered the spyglass, lifted it again.

“That’s the Imperial banner!” he said.

Before he could move, the woman snatched the spyglass out of his hand. She held it up to her eye to look for herself.

A golden, double-headed eagle flying in a red background. The captain was right. Although those were Alliance naval ships, they were flying Adrestia’s banner.

“Alert the fleet,” the woman ordered. She handed back the spyglass. “Tell everyone to prepare for battle.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

While the captain rushed to obey the order, the woman pulled off her cloak, revealing her Almyran battle armor, and a shamshir hanging from her right hip.

“The Empire thinks to ambush us?” she muttered.

She unsheathed the shamshir, gripping it firmly in her left hand.

“They’re about to learn why I’m called the Demon Queen of Almyra…”


	6. Chapter 6

Signals sent from the flagship quickly spread back to the rest of the fleet. As the enemy ships closed in, the Almyran fleet positioned themselves for the coming battle. They fanned out, making ready to encircle the Imperial ships.

The Almyran queen held her sword at the ready. She held herself still as a statue while she watched the Empire approach.

Meanwhile, the Almyran fleet was a flurry of movement. The ships went into a crescent formation, with the flagship at the center. Almyran archers ran to the raised platforms on the fore and aft of the ships, getting ready to fire. By the time everyone was in place, the Imperial ships had entered their range.

“Open fire!” the queen commanded.

Arrows filled the air. But unlike volleys fired on land, these were different.

The arrowheads were on fire. Their flaming tips pierced the enemy’s sails, struck the bulwarks, and even hit a few unfortunate sailors, whose horrified screams then rent the air. Unable to put out the flames, they cast themselves overboard, preferring to drown rather than burn.

Having thrown their enemies into a panic, the Almyran ships edged closer. The Imperial ships tried to answer them with a volley of their own, but the disorder in their ranks resulted in a weak and uncoordinated attack. Arrows and fire magic came down in small, sporadic bursts.

One of the fire spells hit the sails of one of the Almyran ships, setting the canvas ablaze. Soldiers screamed as Imperial arrows hit their mark.

The queen twirled her blade, glaring at her enemy. They only needed to be a little bit closer…

The Almyran fleet unleashed a second volley. Fires began to spread on the Imperial ships. While the archers kept up a steady rain of arrows, the Almyran ships edged ever closer. Two minutes later the ships of the two opposing sides were practically touching.

Finally, it was time.

The Almyran queen raised her sword.

“Prepare to board!” she yelled.

The ships themselves shook from the battle cry of thousands of Almyran soldiers. The queen pointed her sword at the Imperial ships, letting out a yell of her own. She then led the charge.

She climbed up onto the railing and leaped across onto the deck of the Imperial ship. As her feet touched down on the deck, she brought her shamshir down in an angled slash across the chest of the closest enemy soldier. An axe swung in her direction, and she ducked under it. Before the soldier could recover, she kicked him in the knee. His leg gave out, and as he dropped, the queen quickly ran her blade across his throat.

Where those two soldiers fell, three more rushed in. Blocking the sword of the first with her shamshir, she kicked the second in the gut. Deftly maneuvering herself behind the enemy swordsman, she pushed him into the third. A couple of Almyran soldiers then charged in to help her. Not that she needed it. Within seconds, all three enemies lay dead in front of her.

The queen paused to look around. The Almyran forces had wasted no time in boarding and securing a foothold on the enemy ships. Arrows continued to fly on both sides. At least two Imperial ships had gone down in flames. Three more were badly damaged.

Unfortunately, one Almyran ship had gone down as well. Two more, while not sunk yet, had been set ablaze and looked in bad shape.

She scanned the remaining Imperial ships, looking for the flagship. 

As luck would have it, it was surprisingly close. Only one ship over from the one she currently stood on. All she needed to do was cut her way through.

Another Imperial soldier yelled and charged at her. She leaped out of the way of the sword strike, following up with a slash across the chest. The soldier’s momentum carried them forward a couple paces before they fell.

The rest of the Imperial forces were now locked in combat with the Almyran army. Keeping her sword out, the Almyran queen strode across the blood-soaked deck, eyes fixed on the Imperial flagship.

An arrow flew in her direction. She ducked. When more Imperial soldiers broke off and came after her, she dodged and deflected their attacks with ease. With a couple of strokes from her shamshir, she then left a trail of Imperial corpses in her wake. Her blade was thoroughly drenched by the time she reached the railing on the other side of the ship.

She jumped up onto the railing, holding onto the rigging with her right hand while she scanned the deck of the flagship.

Thanks to the work of the archers’ flaming arrows, parts of the ship, including the sails, were ablaze. Battling here would be much more treacherous now that the fires were spreading.

The Almyran queen swiped some of the blood off her blade and leaped across to the other ship.

No sooner had she landed on the deck than the mast collapsed. It crashed down and punched a hole in the deck, causing the whole ship to shake violently from the impact. The combatants of both sides lost their balance. Screams rang out as flaming debris scattered over the deck. Even the queen let out a cry of surprise, forced to grab onto the railing to steady herself.

The debris settled, but now more than half the deck was either crushed under the mast, or on fire. And amidst the chaos, the queen lost sight of her target. The Imperial captain had disappeared.

Cursing under her breath in Almyran, the queen picked up her sword and ran to look for them.

She had to dance around a handful of Imperial soldiers that tried to stop her. Between them and the burning remains of rigging and sails littering the deck, her maneuvers were severely hampered. She slashed one soldier across the chest and kicked them onto a pile of debris. The sword of the second narrowly missed her neck, and she responded with a swift punch from her right hand. The blow landed squarely in the soldier’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Before he had the chance to recover, she brought her left hand around, slashing open his chest with her shamshir.

With those soldiers taken care of, the queen went back to her search for the captain.

She caught a glimpse of someone in flashy uniform, trapped between the helm and the fire on the lower level of the deck. After taking a quick glance around to be sure no more enemies remained, the queen sheathed her sword and ran in that direction.

Fearful cries from all around caught her attention. The ship was taking on water.

The queen bit her lip, glancing between her target and the rising water level on the ship. They probably had enough time before it sank for her soldiers to return to the Almyran fleet, but that wasn’t the problem.

She jumped back up onto the railing.

“Get back to the fleet!” she yelled, pointing to the Almyran ships.

Only a handful of the troops seemed to notice. The rest were either still locked in combat, or too busy trying to get out of reach of both the fire and the water. The queen sighed and cleared her throat. She repeated the command, bellowing it out as loudly as she could.

The troops heard her that time. They began to scramble to return to the Almyran fleet.

However, the queen did not go with them yet. After taking a few seconds to think on it, she took the gamble. She climbed over the fallen rigging and made her way to the helm. As she landed beside it, she drew her sword again.

But the man before her already had his hands raised in surrender.

His gaze traveled slowly from the blade hovering inches from his throat up to the face of its wielder. His face turned as white as his hair.

“Lady Riegan?!” he exclaimed.

The queen narrowed her eyes. It took her considerably longer to identify him.

“Margrave Edmund, is that you?” she said finally. “What the hell are you doing on an Imperial warship?”

“Why the hell are _you_ with the Almyran army?”

“I asked first.”

A loud crashing noise behind her startled them both. She stepped back, blade still pointing at Edmund, and she stole a quick glance at the ship as it rapidly fell apart from under them. To make matters worse, the water level had risen.

They’d have to leave now if they didn’t want to swim back to the Almyran flagship.

Sheathing her sword, she seized Edmund by the cuff of his sleeve.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Your forces have already lost,” the queen said. “Unless you’d rather drown here, you’ll come with me.”

She dragged him along as she went back the way she came. Edmund grunted and groaned in protest as he was pulled up onto the railing, not that the Almyran queen was listening. His protests persisted even as she navigated the partially burning, partially flooded deck.

She spotted a squad of Almyran soldiers making their way back to the fleet. She called to them in Almyran. They halted, eyeing her prisoner.

“I captured their commander,” the queen said, still in Almyran, earning herself a strange look from Edmund. “Now help me get him back to our ship.”

Two of the Almyran soldiers walked up to Edmund, each grabbing one arm. They brusquely hauled him up to the railing, carrying him across to the safety of the Almyran ship. Once there, they promptly let go of him, and he dropped to his knees. The Almyran queen stood over him, arms crossed.

“You… I thought you were dead!” Edmund said, once he caught his breath. “You disappeared all those years ago… were you in Almyra this whole time?!”

“Maybe,” the queen said sarcastically. “But never mind that for the moment. You still haven’t told me why you’re commanding the Imperial forces here.”

Edmund sighed in exasperation.

“I’m technically not the one in command,” he said. “The Imperial forces commandeered my fleet after the emperor got word that the Almyran army had crossed Fódlan’s Throat.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because Empire or no Empire, I’m defending my territory from Almyran invasion.”

“Hmm…” the queen said, uncrossing her arms and letting her left hand drift to her sword hilt. “Well, never mind the fact that you’ve _failed,_ take a minute and consider why Almyra would be invading in the first place…”

Edmund looked confused for a second. But as he sat there, the wheels in his head began to turn. He tried putting it together. The timing of her return, he could understand. Why it coincided with an Almyran invasion of unprecedented scale, on the other hand…

Rumor had it that the Almyran king himself was leading the Almyran invasion. Now Lady Riegan had returned, leading a second Almyran force.

He had a guess, but he also hoped it was wrong.

“Diana…” he began.

“_Queen _Diana,” she corrected.

The color drained from Edmund’s face a second time.

Much to his dismay, his guess was correct.

* * *

Just as the king said, the Almyran army was up and ready to leave at dawn. The king himself was finishing with adjusting the saddle on his wyvern when the stable doors opened. In walked Holst, fully outfitted in his own battle armor. Kasirga stopped, standing his full height while Holst made his way across the hay-strewn floor.

Holst walked up to Kasirga and the wyvern. As if only just remembering his obligations, he made an awkward bow, then stood up again.

Kasirga’s lip twitched. He was only just hiding his amusement from the Fódlan general.

“Don’t do that again,” he said. He paused, then added, “Where is your father?”

Holst sighed.

“Well, I couldn’t convince him to join us,” he said. “But he won’t try to stop us either.”

Kasirga narrowed his eyes.

“So what is he going to do?”

“If it’s possible, I’d like for him to be allowed to stay at our estate,” Holst said.

“Fine.”

Holst blinked, taken aback at how easily the Almyran king acquiesced. Kasirga noted the dubious look in Holst’s eyes and chuckled.

“What?” Kasirga said. “Would you rather I keep him prisoner here?”

“Of course not,” Holst said. “I’m just… pleasantly surprised, is all.”

Kasirga snorted.

“I let your father go because he poses no threat,” he said. “Since you’ve practically handed your house’s troops over to me…”

He double checked the saddle straps and adjusted the reins one last time. Once he was satisfied that all his preparations were complete, he leaned against his wyvern’s side. He shot a curious glance over at Holst.

“Which is something I’ve been wondering about,” Kasirga continued. “Nader told me your house was opposed to the Empire, but I can’t help but wonder if there was another reason you became so quick to ally with us.”

Holst frowned, hesitant to answer.

“You were defeated. Twice. And yet, you got right back up, and even chose to side with an old enemy, just for another chance to fight the Empire,” Kasirga said. “You clearly hate them as much as I do.”

Holst sighed.

“That’s right,” he said.

The stable fell silent for a minute. After giving it some thought, Holst relented, and began to explain.

“I _do_ hate them,” he said. “And for the same reason. Because, on the same day you lost your son… I lost my sister.”

Kasirga’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

“She was friends with Claude when they were both attending the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach,” Holst went on. “She fought alongside him at Derdriu. And, in the end, she gave her life trying to protect him.”

Kasirga nodded.

“I thought I saw more than just the warrior’s fire in your eyes,” he said. “There is vengeance as well.”

He climbed into the saddle, grasping the reins firmly in one hand. The wyvern spread its wings. It let out a roar that shook the rafters.

“Come,” Kasirga said. “The Empire is waiting for us.”

With King Kasirga’s permission, Holst retained command of the Goneril troops. They marched alongside the Almyran army, the banners of each flying high. The Crest of Goneril flew side by side with the horse archer of Almyra.

However, there was one caveat to Holst’s new position within the Almyran army. His corps had to attach itself to the Almyran vanguard, and Holst himself had to answer to Nader and Kasirga. It seemed his forces would serve as only a small auxiliary to the main force. Though as far as Holst was concerned, that could hardly be considered a sacrifice. He was still surprised the Almyran king allowed him to fight at all.

Then again, there were many things about the king that Holst found difficult to process. For one thing, he still couldn’t look at the man without seeing Claude. Despite the fact that he was much older, slightly taller, and had eyes of gold instead of forest green, he still resembled the former Alliance leader.

Which was another shock to Holst’s system. The whole time he’d known him, Claude had never once let on that he was half Almyran, and Almyran royalty at that. He had always been inscrutable. Shrewd. Calculating. Now Holst understood why. Claude had to be all those things in order to protect himself and lead the Alliance. For Holst knew all too well the Alliance lords would never have knowingly let someone from Almyra lead them.

Not too long ago, Holst would have counted himself among those lords. After all, he was the Protector of Fódlan’s Throat. He had battled the ‘eastern menace’ countless times.

He had thought he knew what the people of Almyra were really like. Yet as he marched alongside them, he began to wonder.

They marched out of Goneril territory that morning, headed west. To reach Derdriu, they had to pass through Ordelia and Gloucester territories, both pro-Empire areas. Though Holst warned Kasirga of this, the king had already sent scouts ahead of the main force. If an attack did come, they would see it.

For most of the day, the Almyran army traveled without incident. Until they crossed the river separating Goneril and Gloucester lands.

A sudden uproar from the head of the marching column broke Holst out of his reverie. Several people, including Nader and Kasirga, were yelling in Almyran.

Holst looked beyond the marching column, to the hills on the western horizon. Sure enough, an opposing army had assembled there.

“Those banners…” he muttered.

He doubted the Almyran king knew, but Holst recognized those banners immediately. Those were not Imperial forces.

That was Count Gloucester’s army. They had assembled at the top of the hills, already in battle formation. Any second now, they would commence the attack.

With Gloucester having headed the pro-Imperial faction of the Alliance, Holst knew better than to be surprised that they would oppose him now. Then again, it was just as likely they were simply trying to protect Fódlan from the Almyrans. Holst had not had time to notify the other Alliance lords of what had happened at the Locket. Of House Goneril’s new alliance with Almyra.

But even if he had, he doubted it would have made a difference. Not to House Gloucester, anyway.

Nader and Kasirga started shouting commands, and the Almyran army began to shift from marching columns into battle formations. Holst did his best to follow. After putting his troops into formation, he rode to the front and scanned the lines for either Nader or Kasirga.

Kasirga and the rest of the flying corps had taken to the skies, well out of shouting range. Nader, however, remained on the ground, commanding the rest of the army. He gave commands to his army in Almyran, and when he finished, he approached Holst and the Goneril troops. At that point, he switched languages.

“Our scouts spotted them a while back,” Nader said. “So those troops belong to House Gloucester, huh?”

“Yes. They were pro-Empire from the start… I don’t think they intend on letting us through without a fight.”

Nader scoffed. “Fine by me!” he said. “But they don’t seem to have any Imperial troops supporting them… huh. Makes things easier for us, then.”

The distant yelling of the Gloucester troops carried across the plain. Holst and Nader glanced in that direction, and saw exactly what they expected. With their cavalry at the head of the charge, the Gloucester army had begun its attack.

Nader pulled on the reins of his wyvern. The beast stood upright, spreading its wings.

“Right,” the Almyran general said. He brandished an axe, a smile coming to his face. “Time to show them what we’re made of.”

With that, he took to the air. As the Gloucester cavalry charge drew closer, Kasirga and the wyvern corps flew back into view, approaching from the northeast.

But Holst didn’t have time to care what the king was doing. He readied his own troops.

“Archers! Make ready!”

On either side of him, Almyran commanders gave what Holst could only assume was the same command, as both his and the Almyran archers nocked arrows.

“Aim!”

Hundreds of bows were raised, pointing toward the enemy.

“Fire!”

At the same instant that the ground troops fired their combined volley, Kasirga’s wyvern archers swept the Gloucester flank with devastating enfilade fire. Horses fell, and riders screamed. For half a second, it looked like the two volleys would break the charge. Kasirga even began to fly back around, bow lifted high in triumph.

Then the air itself seemed to burst into flames. From the crest of the hill, Gloucester’s famous magic corps appeared, unleashing a deadly firestorm on Kasirga’s wyvern troops.

Several wyverns fell out of the sky, the cries of beasts and riders alike cut short as they crashed to the ground. Kasirga hurriedly pulled the troops out of range. They climbed skyward, heading north to make it look like they were retreating.

On the ground, the Gloucester cavalry reached the Almyran line. Holst and the Almyrans were ready for them with shields and lances poised. The first rank to attempt to breach the line got run through with the lances. When their horses got stopped short, riders fell out of the saddle, where they were met with Almyran blades.

The second and third ranks began to breach the line. Holst raised his sword and yelled. His troops joined in, and the melee began in earnest.

A cavalier charged at him, and Holst leaped out of the way, slashing at the horse’s legs as he dodged. The horse fell, nearly crushing its rider. As the rider extricated herself from her fallen mount, Holst rushed in. The rider frantically brought her lance to bear, trying to stave off the Goneril general’s attacks.

“What the -”

The Gloucester soldier seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second, then became more frantic. The sight of the redheaded general with the Crest of Goneril emblazoned on his breastplate caused her to panic, now that she realized who he was. She swung her lance blindly, hitting friends and foes alike. But just before Holst could find an opening, one of his archers shot the soldier in the neck.

As more enemy cavalry continued to break through the lines, the battlefield grew increasingly chaotic. Holst had to be careful not to accidentally hit the Almyran soldiers while cutting down the Gloucester cavalry.

He hamstrung another horse, sending its rider flying forward, crashing into the grass. The rider was ready for him with a lance thrust that narrowly missed his ribcage when Holst charged in to strike. Sidestepping the lance, Holst then thrust his sword into his opponent’s ribcage. As he yanked the weapon out, he turned around.

Some commotion from the rear guard drew his attention.

“They can’t have encircled us,” he said. “What’s going on?”

There was a blinding flash of light from the south, on the other side of the river. Holst couldn’t see what generated it, but he had a guess.

Lightning bolts descended from the sky, striking the Almyran rear guard. Terrified screams rippled through the ranks, amid the officers’ commands to pull the troops together.

Holst swore under his breath, focusing his attention on his part of the battle. He cut down several more Gloucester soldiers, and as he paused to catch his breath, Nader swooped down on his wyvern and swept through a line of enemy cavalry, toppling half a dozen of them with his axe. He then landed next to Holst.

“Reinforcements from the south,” Nader said, pointing. “They’re not flying the Gloucester banner. You wouldn’t happen to know who they are?”

Holst glanced southward for a second. The rear guard had rallied, answering their new enemy’s magical lightning with a volley of arrows and wind magic.

“I suspect those are Ordelia mages,” Holst said. “They’re trying to trap us in a pincer attack.”

“They’re going to have to do better than a handful of mages to trap us,” Nader said. He lifted his axe. “I’ll go support the rear guard. You stay here and hold the line against the cavalry.”

He nudged his wyvern.

“Wait!” Holst said. “Where’s King Kasirga?”

“He’s using the wyvern corps to support us with hit and run tactics,” Nader replied. “He’ll be back any minute.”

With that, he took to the air again. Holst sighed, left with no choice but to return to the fray with the Almyran general’s not-so-reassuring words ringing in his ears.

He made short work of a few more enemies, but more flashes of magical light appeared, this time from up ahead. And these flashes were getting alarmingly close to the front lines.

“Are the Gloucester mages on the move?” Holst said. “Damn it, where is Kasirga?”

A bright, fiery light appeared right under Holst’s feet. Looking down, he saw the earth itself open up as the ground beneath him grew unbearably hot. Eyes going wide with realization, Holst leaped to the side, narrowly dodging the fires of a Bolganone spell as it erupted in the very spot where he had been standing. He hurriedly scanned the field for the spell’s caster.

It took less than a second to locate him. Directly ahead – the violet-haired man seated on a black horse, and decked out in violet and silver armor, with a rose pinned to his breastplate. In his hand, he held a staff that glowed red.

Though he’d never met the boy in person, Holst immediately knew who this was.

“Lorenz!” he yelled.

Lorenz reined in his horse, glaring at Holst. He took a moment to size up the Goneril general, and the look on his face went from determined glare, to astonished, to appalled.

“Lord Holst… I should have known from the moment I saw Goneril’s banners flying with the Almyran army…” he said, his words dripping with disappointment. “You survived, only to turn traitor on us…”

“I betrayed no one,” Holst spat. “House Goneril has always opposed the Empire. We just happened to gain some unlikely allies, is all.”

“’Unlikely’?!” Lorenz repeated. “Think of who you’ve sided with! The Almyrans are no friends of Fódlan! Have you lost your mind?”

“Lorenz.” Holst raised his sword, pointing it at the young Gloucester noble. “I will warn you this once. Leave. Take your troops and withdraw.”

Lorenz gestured with his free hand, conjuring the sigil for another spell.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “House Gloucester has sworn fealty to the Empire. As such, we are sworn to protect it from anyone who dares threaten it. Including you.”

Holst lowered his sword.

“…Fine.”

Lorenz put his hand forward and chanted an incantation. Another inferno erupted beneath Holst’s feet, but again, Holst managed to leap out of the way in time. As he recovered, Holst let out a battle cry and charged.

At the northern end of the battlefield, Kasirga kept the Gloucester mages busy. His wyvern corps would fly in, unleash a volley, and then just as quickly retreat again. They had been caught off guard by the mages’ initial strike, but now Kasirga had them at his mercy. In the space of about an hour, the Gloucester mage corps was all but wiped out, while Kasirga’s wyvern corps sustained few casualties beyond their losses at the start of the battle.

When Kasirga flew in for what he anticipated to be the finishing volley, he saw what remained of the enemy force waving a white flag of surrender. Satisfied that one major threat was eliminated, the king then turned his eye to the rest of the field.

Not only was the Gloucester cavalry continuously receiving reinforcements from the fort a couple miles further to the west, they had pushed into the Almyran lines. Additionally, another, unidentified force had arrived from the south, attacking the rear guard as well.

A pincer attack. The Gloucester mages had merely been a distraction.

Kasirga rallied the wyvern riders and sped back to the front lines. As he moved, he surveyed the field, deciding which side most needed his support.

He flew south to support the rear guard.

As it turned out, another mage corps supported this new enemy force while cavalry and foot soldiers alike charged across the two bridges over the river, clashing with the Almyran force on the shore.

Kasirga pulled an arrow from his quiver. It would be the same tactic as before. Let the main force deal with the infantry and cavalry while he and the flying units dealt with the mages.

He flew high above the battle, aiming down at the formations gathered on the other side of the river. Half a second later, Almyran arrows rained down from the sky, decimating their target. Kasirga then doubled back, flying behind his lines to get out of range of any counterattacks.

“Your Majesty!”

Nader flew up to join his king.

“There you are,” he continued. “Don’t tell me everything’s finished on the front lines already.”

“Not yet,” Kasirga said, pulling out another arrow. “But we should eliminate the threat to our rear first. And our new Fódlan friend seems to be holding his own.”

Nader nodded. He swooped down on the enemy troops with his axe while Kasirga continued to pour volleys of arrows onto the enemy mages. Like the Gloucester mages before, Kasirga’s tactics destroyed these mages with minimal losses to his own force.

Once he was satisfied that the situation in the rear was under control, Kasirga changed targets one more time. He signaled his troops, and they flew west, ready to support the vanguard.

Holst could not deny that Lorenz had the advantage. Not only did Lorenz have the mobility advantage of being on horseback, but he could cast spells at him from much farther than should normally have been possible. Probably thanks to his Relic.

After narrowly dodging a third spell, Holst sheathed his sword. He’d never be able to reach Lorenz this way. He needed to strike from a distance as well. Keeping an eye on the Gloucester noble, he searched the battlefield for a suitable weapon.

That was a difficult task, considering he had to watch not just Lorenz, but the two armies clashing around him. Holst had to rely on his troops to keep the enemy occupied. But he was armed again soon enough.

He picked up a javelin from a fallen soldier. Though not his weapon of choice, it was the first thing he could find.

However, his first target upon finding it was not Lorenz.

It seemed the Gloucester forces were being continuously reinforced by a steady flow of cavalry units from somewhere further west. A fresh company of cavaliers tried to surround the Goneril general right as he picked up his new weapon.

Two of them were cut down almost immediately by a couple of Holst’s soldiers. Two more were felled by Almyran blades. Holst thrust the javelin deep into the chest of a fifth. A volley of arrows took care of the rest.

Removing the javelin from the corpse of the cavalier, Holst scanned the field again.

Despite being battered by the continuous cavalry assault, the Goneril and Almyran forces rallied. The Almyran division commanders raised their swords and yelled, and Holst followed suit. The result was a second wind that surged through their ranks, giving the soldiers the energy to charge and break through the Gloucester lines.

Undeterred, Lorenz prepared to cast another spell. Holst deliberately waited until the magically created volcanic lines appeared under his feet, then sprinted forward. Lorenz’s Bolganone spell once again burned nothing but the grass, but now the young noble was suddenly confronted with the sight of his target charging straight for him before he was done casting.

Holst broke through the enemy line. He had a clear shot.

“I warned you…” he said.

Lorenz’s eyes went wide with fear. He lowered his hand, abruptly ending the spell. Taking up the reins, he tried to urge his horse to take him out of range.

He was a fraction of a second too slow. No sooner had he cut the spell short than Holst hurled the javelin.

Lorenz screamed.

The force behind Holst’s throw had pierced through his armor like it was nothing. The javelin’s point buried itself several inches deep into the young noble’s chest. Blood trickled from his wound, and then from his mouth. He gasped for air. Choked on his own blood. Thyrsus slipped out of his hand, its red glow vanishing as it fell to the ground.

Not two seconds later, Lorenz fell. He slumped in the saddle and fell to the side, hitting the ground with a thud.

All around him, the battle turned into a rout. While the Goneril and Almyran troops chased after the Gloucester forces, Holst slowly walked up to where Lorenz lay to retrieve the javelin.

“_Lorenz!”_ came a despairing cry from somewhere to Holst’s left.

Holst turned to see another man clad in elaborate silver armor. He recognized the man’s voice, as well as his lavender gray hair.

Count Gloucester.

Holst drew his sword, ready to defend himself. As it turned out, he wouldn’t need to.

While the count readied a spell, intending to obliterate Holst with it, a familiar wyvern’s roar drew Holst’s attention skyward. Kasirga’s white wyvern descended from the sky at breakneck speed, its rider aiming his bow directly at the count. Holst stood rooted to the spot. He paid no attention to the fiery magic closing in on him. Instead, he watched the arrow fly from Kasirga’s bow to Count Gloucester’s chest.

The count instantly lost his spell, both hands flying up and clutching his chest. For an agonizing few seconds, he gargled and choked on his own blood. Then, just like his son, he fell out of the saddle and lay still.

Kasirga’s wyvern corps flew on ahead, joining in the chase after the remaining Gloucester forces. Kasirga himself, however, landed next to Holst. A minute later, Nader joined them.

The two Almyran men dismounted, surveying the carnage around them. Holst sheathed his sword.

“That was the enemy commander, I take it?” Kasirga said.

“Yes,” Holst replied. “Both of them. Count Gloucester and his son took the field today.”

“I see…” Kasirga paused. “Is something wrong?”

Holst quickly shook his head.

“No,” he said.

Holst stepped away from Lorenz’s body. He waited patiently in front of the two Almyran commanders. Kasirga nodded thoughtfully.

“Our troops will have the enemy fort seized within the hour,” he said. He looked westward, to the late afternoon sun. “We’ll be stationing ourselves there for the night.”

“No doubt there’ll be plenty of supplies there for the taking as well,” Nader added. “Hopefully, enough for tonight’s feast.”

Holst looked questioningly at Nader.

“Feast?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Nader said. “Win or lose, it’s a long-held tradition in Almyra to hold a grand feast after every battle. Tonight, we’ll celebrate our victory. And honor those who fell.”

Though he wasn’t sure he fully understood, Holst nodded anyway. Nader waved him over.

“Come on,” he said. “You should join us.”


	7. Chapter 7

For all the strange things he’d done in his life as a noble and a general, Holst was sure nothing compared to the spectacle he found himself in that moment. None of the dances he’d learned in Fódlan ballrooms looked anything like this. It was chaotic, but lively. Foreign, bewildering, and utterly confusing… but fascinating at the same time.

Holst sat down, intending to eat dinner and warm himself by the fire for a bit before going to bed. But he quickly forgot about his plate of food, transfixed by the display in front of him.

The Almyran soldiers jumped up and danced wildly in circles around the bonfire, singing loudly in their native tongue. Somewhat to Holst’s surprise, Nader and even Kasirga joined in.

After a few rounds of dancing around the fire, Nader broke off, wandering over to where Holst sat. He sat beside the Fódlan general, though he had to take a minute to catch his breath before saying anything.

“What’s with the look?” Nader asked with a chuckle.

“I’ve… never seen Almyran dances before,” Holst said. “I had no idea they were so… vigorous.”

Vigorous. That was putting it politely.

Nader laughed.

“That’s right,” he said. “You wouldn’t have seen our dancing. Until very recently, we’d only ever seen each other on the battlefield, after all.”

Holst looked back down at his plate of untouched food. Before he could start eating any of it, Nader nudged him on the shoulder.

“But since you’re fighting with us now,” Nader said. “Why not join in?”

“What?”

“The dancing.” Nader pointed.

“Uh…”

Holst looked at the group that was currently dancing, watching them leap about seemingly all over the place. To his mind, there was no discernible choreography. No clearly defined steps. It was too chaotic to make out. There was no way he could dance to this.

“…That won’t be necessary,” he said. He started eating the food on his plate, hoping Nader would see he was otherwise occupied and leave.

“And why not?” Nader said, clearly unimpressed.

Holst had barely taken more than a few bites of bread when some commotion on the other side of the bonfire drew his attention. Setting the bread down, he squinted at the group of people gathered by the fire. The singing had stopped. Now, a handful of the Almyran soldiers were shouting something. Looking more closely, Holst noticed they were shouting at a couple of his soldiers.

“Hey!” Holst leapt to his feet, spilling his plate and food on the ground. “What’s going on here?”

One of the Almyran soldiers had seized a Goneril soldier by the arm, and appeared to be dragging him into the dance circle. The shouting was a mix of the Goneril soldier’s protests and the Almyrans cheering them on.

Behind him, Holst heard Nader let out another laugh.

“Calm down, General!” he said. “No one’s starting any fights here. They just want to dance.”

Two more Goneril soldiers jumped in to help their comrade. One of them pushed the Almyran soldier.

“We’re not joining in your barbaric dancing ritual!” the Goneril soldier yelled.

The Almyran man shouted indignantly in response.

“Looks like it’s about to turn into a fight anyway,” Holst growled. He walked over, ready to break them up.

Nader ran after him.

The sight of the giant Fódlan general heading straight for him was enough to make the Almyran soldier release the Goneril soldier. Scant seconds later, Nader caught up. He started talking to his troops in Almyran. They nodded, stealing amused glances in General Holst’s direction.

“What did you tell them?” Holst asked.

“I explained that your soldiers weren’t comfortable jumping into our dances right away,” Nader said.

“And?”

The Almyran general grinned.

“So I told them you would go first.”

“What?!”

Nader grabbed Holst’s arm. He yelled something in Almyran, which was met with roaring cheers from the rest of his troops. Holst turned around, seeing that even Kasirga himself was among them. It was painfully obvious how desperately the king was trying to hold back laughter.

Kasirga raised his hands over his head and clapped, then started singing. Gradually, everyone else joined in and the dancing started anew. Caught between soldiers dancing on either side of him, Holst got dragged in. He tried valiantly to escape, to no avail.

All around him he heard cheering and singing. No one seemed to be laughing at him, but that didn’t stop his face from turning as red as his hair at his own attempt at imitating the Almyrans’ dancing. Once he gave up trying to escape, he tried humoring them. He imitated their movements as best he could, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising in his face.

After the first two minutes, some of the Almyran soldiers tried pulling the Goneril soldiers in again. Seeing their own general gradually taking to this strange foreign dance, a few of them relented. Slowly but surely, more of the Goneril troops joined in. The ones that still refused to participate at least stayed to watch.

Holst gave it a few more minutes, then withdrew from the dancing circle, sitting back down where he had been seated before. As he was toying with the idea of retiring to the fort and going to bed, he saw Kasirga break off from the dance. He walked over to where Holst sat.

“Not bad,” the king said.

Holst looked up. Kasirga was smiling, but it wasn’t the devious grin Nader had worn when he forced Holst into the dance. Nor was it a satisfied smirk. Strange as the concept seemed to him, Holst thought the Almyran king looked genuinely happy for once.

“Your general, Nader, says this is a long-held tradition of yours,” Holst said. He gestured at the soldiers still dancing. “You do this after _every _battle?”

“Of course,” Kasirga said. “It’s a time-honored tradition of the Almyran warrior. Although, admittedly, we may not be able to have these feasts as consistently now that we’re on active campaign deep in enemy territory.”

“And the songs they were singing,” Holst said. “I don’t know much Almyran, so I could only pick out a few of the words. But I’m guessing those songs are also about the Almyran battle tradition? Tales of legendary warriors, perhaps? I thought I heard the name Temur earlier, before General Nader dragged me in…”

“You did,” Kasirga said with a nod. “The famous undefeated warrior of eastern Almyra-”

“The commander of the Almyran force that invaded Fódlan over two hundred years ago,” Holst finished for him.

There was a pause.

“You do know about him then,” Kasirga said.

“Yes,” Holst said. “He led a force similar in size to yours, and was only driven out by the combined strength of the Empire, Kingdom, and Alliance.”

Kasirga’s smile faded a bit. He crossed his arms.

“Fódlan is not so united this time,” he noted dryly.

“And your objective is not the same as Temur’s,” Holst said. “You know why I joined your side. I don’t think we’re going to have a repeat of history here.”

* * *

Garreg Mach was a flurry of activity as the Black Eagle Strike Force prepared to move out for the next mission. People rushed about, collecting their armor and weapons, gathering last minute supplies and the like. While most of the Strike Force prepared for the march, Edelgard, Hubert, and Byleth gathered in the old Black Eagle classroom for one last strategy meeting before heading out.

“As per the plan, most of the army has already been informed that our target is Fhirdiad,” Edelgard began. “But once we are on the march, our force will advance on Arianrhod instead.”

She looked down at the map spread over the desk, tapping her finger on a point slightly to the north of Garreg Mach.

“The crossroads are up here,” she added.

“Just a moment, Your Majesty,” Hubert said. “What do you intend to do about their commander, Cornelia?”

“In more favorable circumstances, I would have no issue with striking her down,” Edelgard said. “However, with this new Almyran threat, we may need to keep her just a little longer.”

Byleth looked puzzled.

“Keep her?” they repeated. “I thought she was with the Kingdom forces.”

“She may appear to be at the moment, but things are not that simple,” Hubert said with a shake of his head.

“Speaking of the Almyrans,” Edelgard said. “What are the latest reports on that front?”

Hubert tilted his head down and exhaled slowly.

“Gloucester and Ordelia’s pincer attack failed to stop their advance,” he said. “Instead, their forces were all but completely destroyed. What’s more, both the battle survivors and our scouts have since confirmed that troops from House Goneril have joined up with the Almyran army. Lord Holst is with them.”

Byleth turned to face Hubert, their jaw dropping with shock.

Edelgard shook her head in disbelief.

“Wait,” she said. “I thought Lord Holst was killed in the battle at Fódlan’s Locket…”

“That was what we had presumed, given how quickly the fort fell to the Almyran army,” Hubert replied. “But it turns out he has joined them. It’s possible he even let them in on purpose.”

“But why would he do that?” Byleth asked.

Hubert stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Perhaps he saw the invasion as a chance to use them as allies in a bid to resurrect the Alliance,” he said. “But I think Lord Holst’s move is more telling of Almyra’s intentions, if anything.”

“What do you mean?” Edelgard asked.

“If the Almyrans are willing to cooperate with Alliance forces, then a simple invasion of Fódlan is not the objective,” Hubert explained. “They would not have allowed a Fódlan general to join their ranks if they didn’t have similar goals. They must be after a specific target.”

Byleth’s expression hardened, their earlier shock gone. They folded their arms, staring down at the map.

“We are that target,” they said.

Hubert nodded.

“So it would seem,” Edelgard said. She frowned, looking lost. “But it doesn’t make sense. Except as retaliation for their defeat at Derdriu… but even that’s excessive. An invasion force of over ten thousand strong, just for that?” She shook her head. “No. We’re missing something.”

“That’s not all,” Hubert said, his tone getting graver still. He looked at Byleth. “Your prediction about the Almyran navy was correct. Just this morning I received a report from Edmund territory that a fleet of Almyran warships has captured Port Ulster. Margrave Edmund was taken prisoner.”

Edelgard massaged her temple, as if nursing an oncoming headache.

“Then the Almyran army and navy really are planning to rendezvous at Derdriu,” she said. “Any reports on the navy’s strength?”

“It’s difficult to give an exact number, but, even after their losses in the battle for Ulster, the Almyran fleet probably boasts close to forty ships,” Hubert replied. “That’s the most accurate estimate I can give, given the conflicting reports I’ve received.”

“Conflicting reports?” Edelgard asked.

“Yes,” Hubert said. “Though mostly having to do with the commander of the Almyran fleet. One report stated it was the Almyran queen herself. Another claimed she was actually a long-lost Alliance noblewoman, seemingly back from the dead.”

Both Byleth and Edelgard shot him a double take.

“Alliance noblewoman?” Byleth repeated. “And what do you mean ‘back from the dead’?”

“According to my informant, she’s a member of the Riegan family, who disappeared nearly twenty-five years ago,” Hubert said. “I was inclined to dismiss such an outlandish claim myself, but…”

“Wait a minute,” Edelgard said. “Did you say she was from the _Riegan _family?”

Hubert inclined his head. The old classroom fell silent for a full minute. Byleth stared slack-jawed at Hubert, the color slowly draining from their face as they pieced it all together.

“Those reports…” they said. “Hubert, I think I know why Almyra is targeting us.”

Edelgard’s eyebrows shot up. The look in her eyes seemed to indicate she already knew what her teacher was going to say. Still she kept quiet, waiting for the professor to say it, but secretly hoping they were both wrong.

“Those reports aren’t conflicting; the Queen of Almyra and Duchess Riegan… are the same person.”

Before Byleth could continue, someone knocked on the classroom door. Seconds later, the knocker pulled open the oaken double doors.

Ferdinand stood at the entrance.

“Lady Edelgard, the Strike Force is ready to move out,” he said. “Give the command, and we will march.”

“In a moment,” Edelgard said.

There was a tense pause while she looked pointedly at him. As if heeding a silent command, Ferdinand retreated back over the threshold and closed the doors. When the last echo of the closing door faded into silence, Edelgard returned her attention to the professor. And to Hubert.

“Can we really be sure that our informant’s information is accurate?” Edelgard said. “That claim just seems a little too far-fetched. A Fódlan noblewoman suddenly turning up with the Almyran army after being missing for twenty-five years?”

“It’s possible that this is a case of mistaken identity,” Hubert admitted. His expression hardened again. “But on the other hand, this is the only logical explanation behind the Almyran invasion. If House Riegan really is connected to the Almyran throne…”

Edelgard sighed, resting her fists on the edge of the desk. Memories of the Battle of Derdriu resurfaced in her mind. Claude’s words came back to her.

“_If you’re as smart as you seem, I bet you’ve figured out why I was able to summon Almyran reinforcements…”_

That Claude had connections to Almyra was obvious. From the moment the Almyran warships showed up, Edelgard could tell he was friends with the Almyran general, Nader. It was not unreasonable to believe Claude had tried to foster a strategic alliance with Almyra behind the scenes.

She never would have dared to consider that he was their _prince._

“Damn it,” she muttered. “This _is _retaliation for Derdriu, then, isn’t it?”

Byleth swallowed.

Everyone already knew the answer to that question.

“Then we absolutely cannot afford to let it fall,” Edelgard said. “Hubert. Send a message to my uncle, and to Count Bergliez. Have them strengthen the defenses in Derdriu. Send reinforcements from the Great Bridge, if need be.”

Hubert bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Troops coming from the Bridge would run into the Almyran army before getting there,” Byleth noted. “Although, if we used those troops to harass them with hit and run tactics instead of direct engagement…”

“Precisely. Have them stall the Almyran army long enough for the Derdriu garrison to prepare.”

“Good plan,” Hubert said, though he looked hesitant. “Is that… the only adjustment to our strategy?”

“No,” Edelgard said. “If the Almyran fleet reaches Derdriu, there will be nothing stopping them from sailing further west and making contact with the Kingdom. We cannot let that happen.”

“We already discussed the plans for-”

“Once we take Arianrhod, we must immediately march on Fhirdiad,” Edelgard continued. “If we can eliminate the Kingdom quickly, then we deprive the Almyrans of a potential ally, and reduce the war to a single front. We will be better prepared to face the Almyran army.”

“Ah, I see.”

Byleth stood upright. They glanced between Edelgard and Hubert. It seemed they had a strategy in place. All that remained was to move out.

Hubert rolled up the map and stepped away from the desk. He needed only a few minutes to write those messages to Count Bergliez and Lord Arundel. While Edelgard’s vassal saw himself out and went about his task, Edelgard herself lingered in the old classroom for a few minutes longer. Her teacher stayed with her.

“The Almyran fleet is probably carrying almost as many soldiers as the army on land,” Byleth said. “And with both forces converging on Derdriu… I’m afraid we are simply delaying the inevitable.”

“But we cannot afford to stand idle and let them take it without a fight either,” Edelgard said with a shake of her head. “Besides, I think we both know what their next target after Derdriu will be.”

Byleth said nothing. They inclined their head in a barely perceptible nod, their expression turning grim.

* * *

With the Imperial garrison in Ulster crippled after the battle with the Almyran fleet, the port fell quickly under Almyran control. Queen Diana sailed the fleet into the harbor and her forces disembarked, taking the battle to the Imperial soldiers that remained in the city. After expelling the last of the Imperial force, they turned their attention to another issue: supplies.

They didn’t need much; Derdriu was not far, and they could easily resupply there. Still, the queen and her troops spent the remainder of the day carrying Imperial supplies back to the ships.

Queen Diana returned to the flagship late that evening. But instead of going directly to her quarters, she visited Margrave Edmund in the brig.

Her footfalls alerted him to her presence. The margrave sat up straight in the corner of his cell, but did not look at Diana when she walked in.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I want to know where you stand in this war,” Diana replied curtly. She walked right up to the bars, glaring inside.

“My stance is irrelevant,” Edmund said. “Since the Alliance’s defeat, we’ve fallen under Imperial rule. And don’t try to convince me your invasion liberated us; we’ve simply been conquered a second time. Telling you whether I opposed the Empire or not would only make the difference between a lifetime of imprisonment, or immediate execution.”

“Ah, so only the difference between life and death,” Diana said. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You idiot. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so during the battle.”

At last, Edmund looked up at her.

“Then my question still stands: what do you want?” he demanded.

“I want information,” Diana said. “Starting with you. Does House Edmund support or oppose the Adrestian Empire?”

Letting out a sigh, Edmund relented.

“House Edmund opposed the Empire,” he said. “But that was before Derdriu.”

“And now?”

“After Claude’s execution, Emperor Edelgard demanded all the other Alliance lords surrender. We had to cooperate with the Empire to avoid further bloodshed.”

Diana’s eyes flashed.

“Execution?” she said.

The brig fell deathly quiet.

She remembered hearing it from her husband first. She could still see Kasirga trembling with rage and grief, barely able to force out the words. Telling her that their son was dead. Killed at Derdriu. And that the Adrestian emperor was responsible.

“So it’s true that Claude was executed, and not simply killed in battle?” Diana asked, her tone low and threatening.

Edmund paled, but still he nodded in answer to her question.

“I was not there, but every report I heard stated that he was executed immediately following the battle,” Edmund said. “The emperor must have suspected the other Alliance lords would have continued to support him had she let him live. It was her way of defeating us while minimizing the bloodshed.”

“‘Minimizing bloodshed’, hah!” Diana spat. “That woman killed my son, the crown prince of Almyra! And in doing so, she has declared war on us. If that isn’t an invitation for more bloodshed…”

She trailed off and looked away.

“I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty,” Edmund said. “But I doubt Emperor Edelgard had any idea that Claude was the Almyran prince. Certainly no one in the Alliance knew-”

“That does not excuse or change what she has done!”

Edmund lowered his head.

Diana rested her hands against the bars of Edmund’s cell, taking a minute to calm herself. The brig fell silent again for another minute.

“Tell me,” she said at last. “What do you know about the emperor? Why did she invade the Alliance to begin with?”

“I think she is trying to conquer Fódlan and bring all its territories back under the Adrestian banner.”

Diana looked thoughtful for a second.

“And where is she on that?”

“After subjugating the Alliance, she would have turned her focus on the Kingdom,” Edmund said. “However, now that you’re here…”

“So I’ll find her in Kingdom territory,” Diana said. She stepped back from the cell bars, looking lost in thought again. “That’s perfect…”

“How?” Edmund asked.

His question would go unanswered. Diana turned around, ignoring him completely. Muttering to herself in Almyran, she headed back up to the deck.

On the way there, she ran into the ship’s captain.

“Did you need something, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“Yes,” Diana replied. “Where’s our fastest wyvern rider in this fleet? I need to send a message.”


	8. Chapter 8

King Kasirga had the Almyran army back on the march at dawn the next morning. The entire army struck camp in a matter of minutes following breakfast and were back on their path to Derdriu just as the sun became fully visible above the horizon. From their current position, both Holst and Kasirga figured they would reach the Aquatic Capital by the end of the week.

Assuming they ran into no further obstacles, of course.

As a precaution, the king sent scouts ahead of the main force again. They found nothing between them and Derdriu, and so the army marched on.

A few days later, they reached the plains just outside Derdriu. The coastline and ocean beyond were visible on the horizon. As the army approached the crest of a nearby hill, the city gates came into view.

Kasirga called a halt. He landed his wyvern, letting it rest its wings for a moment while he surveyed the city from their vantage point on the hill.

“Looks like Diana got here ahead of us…”

Plumes of smoke rose above the city, likely the result of fires from a fierce battle raging in the streets. On a second glance, Kasirga noticed that some of the smoke seemed to be rising from the harbor as well as the city itself. There was clearly a massive firefight going on.

And there was no telling how his wife’s forces were faring.

Holst walked up, joining Kasirga in overlooking the distant battle.

“It looks like the battle is still ongoing,” Holst said. “Those fires… what is happening down there?”

Kasirga unslung his bow from his back.

“Don’t know,” he said gravely. “But we need to get down there immediately-”

He was interrupted by screams coming from the rear guard.

Holst whirled around. Kasirga turned as best he could in the saddle.

“That’s not our cavalry…” Holst said, pointing.

Indeed, the company of cavalry charging the Almyran rear guard wore neither Alliance-style armor, nor flew any Alliance standards.

Their banners bore the Adrestian eagle.

“Imperial ambush!” someone cried.

Closing in on the Almyran flank, the Imperial cavalry then unleashed a volley of spears and arrows. The Almyrans made ready an answering volley of their own, but most of it fell short as the enemy quickly rode out of range.

Kasirga pulled an arrow from his quiver and rallied his wyvern corps.

“Using our own tactics on us…” he growled. “We’ll see who does it better.”

He took to the air, the entire wyvern corps following him. They flew back to support the rear guard. As they went, Kasirga called out to the other commanders, giving them their orders.

Meanwhile, Holst had little option but to return to his own troops. He drew his sword, then looked skyward to watch as Kasirga pursued the Imperial cavalry.

The ground rumbled. Holst lowered his gaze to see the Almyran bow knights break off from the main force and ride out, joining the wyvern corps in the pursuit. Figuring the Almyran king had the situation under control, Holst scanned the field again, this time looking for Nader.

The Almyran general flew to the head of the army’s marching column, landing next to Holst.

“We just spotted more cavalry units approaching from the south,” Nader said.

Holst glanced in that direction, then back towards Derdriu.

“They’re trying to stall us,” he said.

Nader nodded. “It’s not going to work, though,” he said.

“What’s the plan?”

“You keep following the vanguard and meet up with the rest of our forces in the city,” Nader said. “We’ll handle the reinforcements out here.”

“Got it.”

Holst turned to face his troops. Pointing his sword in the direction of the city, he gave his troops the same order Nader gave him.

Right as he finished, however, a bloodcurdling shriek rent the air. It made the hairs on the back of Holst’s neck stand on end. He froze, then turned around slowly.

That shriek was definitely not a wyvern’s cry. This was something bigger. Something deadlier.

He noticed Nader staring at him, eyes wide.

“General…” he said, pointing at the giant beast charging straight for them. “What the hell is that?”

Holst halted his troops. He then readied his sword, blinking twice as if to test that his eyes were not deceiving him.

“That,” he said at last. “Is a Demonic Beast.”

Everything seemed to have gone according to plan. The Almyran fleet reached Derdriu right at the time Queen Diana had expected. The Aquatic Capital’s harbor came into view just as the sun was starting to peek over the eastern horizon. 

The queen pulled out her spyglass, surveying the city and harbor. She frowned.

Something was off.

“I don’t see anything,” she muttered. “No one. Not even a patrol…”

She put the spyglass away. It was too suspicious for the harbor to be that empty, even at this hour of the morning. There should at least have been some fishermen up and about, but there was no one.

“Captain,” she called.

The captain joined her on the prow.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“Signal the rest of the fleet. We need to prepare for battle.”

“Aren’t the king’s forces-”

“They’re not here yet. Derdriu is still under Imperial control.”

The captain nodded. With that, he promptly turned around and began issuing orders to the crew. He sent one of his men down to rouse the rest of the troops as well. In a matter of minutes, the signals were sent, and the queen’s entire battalion assembled on the deck, ready for battle.

Diana drew her shamshir.

“Keep a sharp eye out,” she said. “They’re bound to have mages and archers hiding in the buildings. They’ll open fire the minute we’re in range…”

Despite the threat of ambush, the fleet pressed on. The troops readied their weapons. The crew lowered the sails, switching to the oars to push the ships the rest of the way. A tense and eerie silence fell on the fleet.

A few minutes later, the first Almyran ship made its way into the harbor.

Then all hell broke loose.

Arrows and fire flew out of the open windows of buildings closest to the docks, setting the Almyran warship ablaze. Screams of those wounded by the arrows rang out, shattering the silence. Their comrades rushed to escape the flames, jumping over the side of the ship and landing on the pier below.

Now that the first company of Almyrans had been forced out of the ship, the doors of the same buildings that housed the snipers opened, and Imperial soldiers came pouring out. They immediately began to charge at the Almyran soldiers. Unfazed by the Imperial ambush, the Almyrans let out fierce battle cries of their own and ran toward their enemy as well.

Meanwhile, the Imperial mages and archers still in the buildings turned their attention to the rest of the Almyran warships. They set a second Almyran ship ablaze, this time before it could reach the pier. Soldiers jumped into the water to escape the flames.

Diana bit her lip as she watched.

“Archers! Get the flaming arrows ready!” she yelled. “Aim for those buildings!”

Fire flew in two directions. While Imperial mages tried to light up the Almyran ships, Almyran fire arrows ignited the enemy’s cover. Seconds after the Almyran archers fired their volley, dozens of wyverns rose into the air above the ships. With the fire distracting the hidden enemy snipers, the Almyrans could now launch their counterattack.

Screaming mages and archers fled their burning hideouts. The Almyran wyvern riders pursued them. Now that they had a safe path to the harbor, the rest of the Almyran fleet sailed in. The instant the crew had the gangplanks lowered, the rest of the Almyran army charged onto the pier.

Though they were clearly outnumbered, the Imperial soldiers did not attempt to flee. Less than a minute later, it became apparent why.

Diana swept a pair of Imperial soldiers aside, looking up just in time to see the onslaught of reinforcements pouring in from the city. It seemed the Imperial army had occupied and hid within the entire merchants’ quarter, for dozens of soldiers now came charging out the doors of every single merchant shop in the area.

“Oh, for the love of…”

There was no way of telling if the merchants themselves had been evacuated. If they hadn’t, Diana could only hope they would flee while the Imperial army was distracted, and before the fires from the battle spread.

Letting out a battle cry, Diana charged headlong at the enemy reinforcements. A handful of her own troops that had also been at the head of the initial Almyran charge joined her. Together, they tore through the enemy line.

“That’s a _what?!” _Nader asked incredulously, tightening his grip on both the reins and his axe.

“A Demonic Beast!” Holst repeated. “It’s a-”

He cut himself off mid-sentence. There was no time to explain.

All they had to do was kill it.

“Goneril troops! Into a wing formation!” Holst barked. Positioning himself in the center, he let his troops form the ‘wings’ of the formation on either side of him, preparing to flank the giant creature as it drew closer.

Seeing what Holst had planned, Nader nodded and took to the air. He watched from above as the Demonic Beast charged right into Holst’s formation. As it came close, it reared up and jumped, clearing the remaining distance. Holst leaped backward, dodging the beast’s enormous claws in the nick of time.

“Now!” he yelled.

While the two flanks of Goneril soldiers rushed in and attacked from each side, Nader swooped in from above. The Goneril soldiers thrust their spears into the beast’s side. Nader plunged his axe into its neck. Meanwhile, Holst slashed his sword across the beast’s face. It roared in pain, pushing forward despite the multitude of weapons buried in its side. Soldiers cried out as the creature lunged, causing them to lose their grip on their weapons. The beast swiped at Holst, narrowly missing him again. Holst followed up with a slash to its leg.

In the air just over the beast’s head, Nader pushed his wyvern skyward. From a safe altitude above the fray, he looked down at the wounded Demonic Beast, bewildered and slightly embarrassed.

For his axe was now firmly lodged in its neck.

Not that this left him totally unarmed; he still had his bow and a full quiver of arrows. But getting his axe back would be difficult. Even if he simply waited until they finished killing the beast, the weapon looked rather firmly wedged into place.

With a resigned sigh and a shrug, Nader pulled out his bow.

At this time, one of the units from the Almyran vanguard moved in to assist. Holst dodged another swipe from the giant beast, keeping it occupied while the Almyran and Goneril forces charged at its flank. The beast let out another roar of pain, stumbling off to the side. It kept on its feet, albeit unsteadily, still determined to keep up the attack.

It opened its mouth. A bright yellow glow emanated from the back of its throat, rapidly increasing in intensity. Holst’s eyes widened as he realized what it was doing. Right as he prepared to dodge the attack, the shadow of Nader’s wyvern passed over him and his troops. Holst looked up to see the Almyran general fire an arrow directly into the Demonic Beast’s throat.

The ball of energy it had built up exploded in its mouth. Soldiers ducked and shielded their heads as blood spurted everywhere and fragments of the creature’s head flew in all directions. The now headless body stumbled forward another couple of paces, then collapsed.

Holst paused for a second. He stared in silent astonishment at the corpse, then belatedly noticed the blood spatter on his own armor.

But he quickly pulled himself together. This was nothing.

“Regroup!” Holst commanded his troops. “Form lines and prepare to-”

A familiar wyvern’s shadow reappeared overhead. Seconds later, Nader landed beside him.

“By the gods,” Nader said, at just above a whisper. “Are creatures like that common in Fódlan?”

“Not really,” Holst said. “But this one… there was something odd about it. It wasn’t a wild one. I think the Empire was controlling it, somehow.”

“Right…”

Another shriek sounded in the distance.

“Another one?” Nader asked.

Both generals looked to the south.

“For the goddess’ sake…” Holst muttered. “We’ll never get into Derdriu at this rate.”

Nader glanced back and forth between the city gates and the second Demonic Beast now headed their way. Retrieving his axe would have to wait.

He called to the commander of the unit that had helped Holst’s troops battle the first beast. She came running over. After the two exchanged some words in Almyran, Nader turned to Holst.

“I can handle myself out here,” Nader said. “You keep going. Follow her troops into the city.”

With that, he nudged his wyvern and was soon airborne again. The other Almyran commander sprinted back to the head of her unit’s column, waving Holst after her. Holst rallied his own troops, preparing to follow. Within a minute, the two units were on the move. They set their troops at a running pace, aiming to reach the city gates as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, their dash for the gates only drew the Imperial army’s attention. The company of mages that had appeared alongside the Demonic Beasts unleashed a magical lightning storm on the combined Almyran and Goneril force, stopping them in their tracks. Tortured screams rang out, and dozens of soldiers fell.

The rest of the Almyran army that hadn’t splintered off to deal with the Imperial cavalry moved to distract this new enemy force. They answered the enemy mages’ lightning with arrows, followed by an infantry charge.

Biting his lip and closing his ears to the cries of the wounded, Holst continued to push forward. They couldn’t afford to stay outside the city a minute longer.

“Break down those gates!” he yelled.

Diana lost count of the number of Imperial soldiers she had run through with her sword. And yet, when she stole a glance around, her forces had made minimal forward progress.

The entire force had at least managed to get off the ships and taken the fighting to the city streets. The ensuing firefight had resulted in setting ablaze nearly every building in the immediate vicinity of the harbor. In the hours that the queen and her army had been battling the Imperials, half of those buildings had been reduced to rubble.

Yet the Imperial army never seemed to stop coming. For every Imperial soldier they killed, another appeared.

Ducking under the blade of another soldier, Diana quickly followed through with a slash across her enemy’s chest, felling him instantly. She then took another quick glance ahead.

“Hm?”

A swordsman charged at her, but she parried the strike, swept the man’s blade aside, and ran him through. Stepping over the body, she finally stepped out into the square. Hundreds of Imperial soldiers awaited her, of course, but it was the lone figure on horseback, waiting behind the enemy lines that caught her eye.

There were no Imperial cavalry units in sight. Furthermore, this man was not wearing an Imperial uniform, but rather wore ornate red and white robes befitting of Imperial nobility.

This had to be the commander. There was no other reason for an Imperial noble to be out in a war zone, in foreign territory.

The rest of the Almyran army followed their queen and spread out across the open area of the square. The remaining Imperial troops rushed them in a last, desperate attempt to drive them back to the harbor.

Undeterred, Diana raised her sword and charged.

Holst and his Almyran allies quickly discovered that the Imperial army had barricaded the gates from the inside. Despite that, the Almyran warriors brought the gates down in a matter of minutes, and the combined Almyran and Goneril force charged in.

Where they were met with a barrage of arrows and magic.

Most of them raised their shields in time to stop the arrows. Unfortunately, those shields did nothing to stop the Imperial mages’ attacks, making for a costly initial charge. Soldiers fell left and right.

Holst let out a fierce battle cry as he ran straight into the Imperial line, ruthlessly cutting down any enemy in his path. The Almyran commander kept pace with him, slashing her enemies to pieces with equal fury. As their allies caught up to them, their combined might punched a hole in the center of the enemy’s line. It did not take long for the remainder of the line to collapse.

The Almyran commander shouted something at Holst, but he understood almost none of it. She had pointed in the direction of the harbor when she spoke, and then taken off without waiting for a response. Holst could only assume she was planning to make a beeline for the harbor so they could rendezvous with their allies as quickly as possible.

However, there was one problem with that plan.

It seemed the Imperial garrison had split itself in half – with one half defending the harbor, and the other defending the gates. And the force defending the gates was still in the way.

They had only broken the first line of defense. While the number of enemy soldiers out on the streets thinned out, arrows continued to rain down out of the windows of buildings. And soldiers hiding behind corners launched surprise attacks on anyone who tried to advance.

An arrow flew from the window of the building directly ahead. It harmlessly deflected off Holst’s armor, but it did draw the general’s attention. He looked up in time to see the sniper’s shadow disappear behind the curtains. The soldier was hiding off the side to reload.

Holst pointed his sword.

“Clear the buildings!” he ordered. “Don’t advance until every building in the area is secured!”

His troops rushed to obey the order, splitting into groups to check the buildings. Some of the Almyran troops helped them.

Just as Holst was about to join in, a fresh Imperial battalion appeared, marching toward them from the center of town. Their commander – a short, but powerfully built man with silver-streaked light blue hair – marched at the forefront of the formation, battle axe in hand.

Holst had heard stories of this man. Count Bergliez, the Empire’s Minister of Military Affairs – commander-in-chief of the Imperial forces – was an adept leader, and said to be nigh unbeatable in close combat himself. The young Alliance general took a deep breath. He held his sword at the ready.

There was only one way to find out if that rumor was true.

Count Bergliez outstretched his arm, pointing in Holst’s direction, and the Imperial troops charged en masse. Swearing colorfully under his breath, Holst nevertheless planted his feet and braced himself for the onslaught.

“Charge!”

Holst heard the command shouted in both Fódlanese and Almyran. Next thing he knew, the mixed allied force appeared on either side of him, forming a wall bristling with blades. That wall then rapidly advanced toward the Imperial line. Half a second later, the two forces collided.

Battle cries morphed into agonized screams. Within seconds, bodies were strewn everywhere. Soldiers on both sides quickly found it difficult to step anywhere without tripping over a corpse or slipping in a pool of blood. Still, both sides refused to yield.

Holst kneed one soldier in the gut while blocking the lance swing of another. With one decisive swing of his blade, he dispatched the lance wielder. Then he leaped over the bodies in front of him to deal with the second soldier. No sooner had his opponent caught his breath than Holst landed right in front of him, seizing him by the collar. A second decisive stroke, and the man lay dead at Holst’s feet.

A battle axe came swinging in Holst’s direction, forcing him to block the weapon with his sword. Sparks flew as metal crashed against metal. Holst looked past the axe, at his new opponent.

At Count Bergliez.

“Lord Holst…” Bergliez said. “I had heard reports that you joined forces with the Almyrans…”

Holst leaned forward, trying to push Bergliez’s axe aside. Bergliez pushed back with equal strength.

“I did,” Holst said bluntly. “What of it?”

“But you’re the famed protector of Fódlan’s Throat! They are your enemy; why side with them now?”

Their strength contest was getting nowhere. So Holst resorted to other tactics. He kicked Bergliez in the knee, distracting him long enough to knock his weapon aside. But Bergliez recovered quickly, blocking Holst’s follow up strike. He then backed out of reach.

There was a half second’s pause.

“I have my reasons,” Holst snarled.

Raising his sword, he went back on the offensive.

Imperial and Almyran corpses littered the square. Smoke continued to rise from the burning buildings, though some of it hung in the air amidst the battle. The wind blowing in from the ocean pushed the smoke south, toward the rest of the city.

As Queen Diana glanced in that direction, she noticed smoke plumes rising from the area near the gates. And, though they were tiny and barely visible from this distance, she could see wyverns flying in the southwestern skies. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

“He’s finally here,” she said.

Her moment of relief did not last. The Imperial army, though severely weakened, was not yet defeated. Despite heavy losses, they kept fighting. And the more troops they lost, the more desperate they got.

Two swordsmen rushed the queen at once. Though she deflected their attacks easily, the real problem was the mage hiding behind them. She couldn’t dodge two blades _and_ magical lightning at the same time.

Her archers noticed and redirected their fire. The wyvern companies helped out as well, sweeping the enemy’s flanks with hit and run tactics. Now that her forces had the enemy mages otherwise occupied, Diana turned her full attention to the foes directly in front of her.

One of them made a feint for her right side, while the second waited a bit to strike. Diana sidestepped both blades. She followed up with a slash across the first swordsman’s chest, but his comrade backed out of reach, narrowly avoiding the same fate – at least temporarily. Readying her sword, Diana ran after him.

Only for the electric blue beam of a Thoron spell to cut off her pursuit.

She ducked under the ray of deadly energy, letting the spell fly overhead until it struck a building. But the distraction had allowed her target to escape. Though it seemed to have been replaced with a new one.

The Imperial nobleman commanding the army reappeared. He slowly lowered his hand, which still glowed with residual magic energy. He glared at Diana.

“The rumors were true,” he said, though he didn’t sound shocked or impressed. “The long-lost Diana von Riegan really has returned, and is leading the Almyran navy.”

Diana narrowed her eyes. Like with Margrave Edmund, she knew this man from her old life as a Fódlan noblewoman. She just needed to search her memory for him.

Those robes. The insignia. He was clearly a high-ranking Adrestian official. And his voice sounded familiar. She had to have met him at least once before. Perhaps in some long-past political dealing with the Empire that she no longer remembered.

Suddenly, it came to her.

“Lord Arundel…”

House Arundel was connected to the Hresvelg family, through marriage. And if Diana was remembering things correctly, then Lord Arundel had to be Emperor Edelgard’s uncle.

She knew it was not him, but Edelgard herself that was responsible for killing her son. But she also realized she didn’t care. He was an Imperial commander and an ally of Edelgard. More importantly, he was blocking Diana’s way to the emperor. That alone was reason enough to kill him.

Tightening her grip on her shamshir, she abandoned the pleasantries and ran in to strike. Arundel spurred his horse and rode out of range. Then he readied another spell. After muttering a quick incantation, he raised his hand over his head. A glowing sigil appeared, and magical lightning bolts materialized above Diana’s head. She dove to the side to dodge. Springing back to her feet, she continued to pursue Arundel.

To her frustration, it turned into a fruitless exercise. He had the mobility advantage, and constantly rode behind his troops’ lines, using his soldiers as a barrier between himself and the Almyran queen. At the same time, he would launch spells at her, forcing her to focus on evasion rather than attack.

After several minutes of this, Diana backed off. She needed to rethink her strategy. Looking up, she saw her wyvern troops continuously wreaking havoc on the enemy’s flanks. Within seconds, an idea occurred to her.

She called to the captain of the wyvern company. He diverted his course, landed next to her, and gave her a puzzled look.

“What is it?” the captain asked.

Rather than answer immediately, Diana simply hopped onto the wyvern’s back, gripping the saddle with her right hand while still holding her sword aloft in her left. She then pointed her sword at Arundel.

“That man is our target,” she said. “Take me to him.”

Holst and Bergliez fought for several minutes with neither one able to get an edge over the other. Bergliez was surprisingly nimble despite the armor and battle axe. Not that Holst had any trouble keeping up. Both men struck fast and hard, but neither could find a gap in the other’s defenses. 

The battle between them was a stalemate. However, the battle raging around them was rapidly shifting in the Almyrans’ favor. The small squads that had gone into the surrounding houses to clear out enemy snipers began to emerge and rejoin the battle on the ground. With each passing minute, the combined Goneril and Almyran force pushed closer and closer to the center of town – which, by the sound of it, was in the process of being overrun by the other half of the Almyran army. Any minute now, the two forces would meet.

Even amidst the heat of the duel, Bergliez could tell the tides had long since turned against him. He stole occasional glances around him, only to find the situation growing worse.

Approximately half of the enemy soldiers were Almyran. They followed the orders of their own Almyran commander, who was at the moment aggressively pushing toward the center of town. Bergliez’s heart sank. Even if he did defeat Holst, the battle was lost anyway.

The thought caused him to falter. And for that one second break in morale and concentration, he paid dearly.

Holst finally found the opening he needed. He brought his sword down with all his might, overpowering Bergliez’s attempt to parry the blow. The attack nearly knocked his axe out of his hand.

Clinging fiercely to his axe, Bergliez retreated before Holst could strike again. Holst sprinted after him, not allowing him any time to recover. He swung again and again, pushing his opponent toward the wall of a nearby house. Bergliez tried to block, but Holst swept the weapon aside.

There was nowhere left to go. Bergliez tried to move out of reach, but this time, he reacted just a little too late.

Holst plunged his sword into Bergliez’s chest.

The Imperial general did not cry out. The agonized look in his eyes said it loudly enough.

“General… please… spare my soldiers…” he said.

Holst said nothing. He simply pulled his sword from Bergliez’s chest.

Bergliez’s battle axe clattered to the ground. The thud of the general’s body collapsing beside it soon followed. The Goneril and Almyran troops erupted in cheers.

What few soldiers remained of Count Bergliez’s garrison threw down their weapons in surrender. Some of Holst’s troops rounded them up, keeping an eye on them while the rest of the army flooded into the square. After wiping the blood from his blade, Holst joined them.

He took barely two steps into the square and stopped.

It was an even bloodier mess than the scene Holst and his allies had left at the gates. Still, the battle looked to be nearly over. Holst resumed his charge toward the enemy line anyway.

But as it turned out, his help would not be necessary after all. The Almyran navy had deployed both ground and flying troops, and it was the company of wyvern riders that approached the last of the Imperial garrison at an alarming speed.

Curiously, Holst noticed the wyvern in the center of the formation had two riders. The man sitting in the front held the reins, directing the wyvern’s path. The woman seated behind him, however, held a shamshir at the ready. As they closed in on their target, she stood up, poised to jump.

The mages unleashed a barrage of spells at the same time that the wyvern riders let fly a volley of arrows. The only exception was the wyvern rider in the center. In the split second after the volley, but before the wyvern riders pulled away, the woman jumped.

Lord Arundel attempted to pull his horse away. While he pulled back enough that she didn’t land on top of him, he didn’t quite escape the reach of her sword. Thus, as she came down, she slashed open his chest with her shamshir. She landed perfectly on her feet and watched as Arundel gradually succumbed to the wound.

The white fabric of his robes turned crimson. He stared, dumbfounded, at the woman.

Though the battle was clearly over, Holst continued to approach. He did, however, slow to a walk. He came within earshot as Arundel gasped out his last words.

“This isn’t… your land…”

Arundel slumped forward in the saddle. He then fell into a crumpled heap on the cobblestone street.

Holst stopped. He sheathed his sword. The sound prompted the woman to turn around and face him.

They both froze.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time the Black Eagle Strike Force had broken down Arianrhod’s gates, the Kingdom force inside had already dissolved into chaos. It turned out there had been one final part to the plan that Edelgard withheld from everyone.

After sending the necessary missives to Count Bergliez and Lord Arundel, Hubert spent an additional couple of minutes to compose a third letter, which he then sent ahead of the Strike Force, to Arianrhod.

Specifically, to its commander, Lady Cornelia.

The messenger flew in by pegasus, handing the letter to Cornelia directly. She stood quietly on the ramparts, reading the letter to herself.

“A change in plans?” she muttered. She read a little further on. “Oh dear…”

A set of approaching footfalls alerted her, and she quickly hid the letter. She turned around.

“Cornelia.”

It was that Fraldarius general. Rodrigue. His brow was creased into a tight scowl, and his eyes bore a grim expression. Something was clearly bothering him. Cornelia clasped her hands in front of her, keeping her expression neutral. She had a feeling she already knew what it was.

“I just received a report from our scouts,” Rodrigue said. “The Imperial army that we thought was en route to the capital is now marching here.”

“Is that so?” Cornelia replied, feigning shock.

“And I had already dispatched reinforcements to the capital,” Rodrigue continued. “We’re short-handed. This will be a fierce fight…”

“Nonsense.”

“What?”

“It will not be a fierce fight at all.”

“What do you mean-”

Cornelia acted swiftly. Her hand suddenly glowed with the purple light of a black magic spell. Before Rodrigue had time to react, she conjured a deadly ray of magic, firing it point blank at him.

It struck him squarely in the chest. He staggered backward, clutching the wound in his chest.

Blood spilled out of his chest and his mouth. He choked and coughed, barely able to breathe, much less force words out.

“Cor… nelia…” he gasped. “What… are you… doing… why…”

Cornelia lowered her hand. The magic glow on her hand faded. She watched as Rodrigue succumbed, collapsing in a heap on the rampart.

A few seconds passed in silence. Then Cornelia stepped over the body, making her way to the stairs. She headed down to the lower levels of the fort.

“Titanus, my precious children,” she said. “It’s time…”

* * *

The skies over Fhirdiad darkened with each passing hour. A storm was rolling in. By nightfall, the capital and surrounding plains would doubtless be drenched in rain.

Still, the daily patrols had to be done. Lady Rhea and King Dimitri both ordered it, as a necessary precaution. Thus, when he went out for the day’s patrol, Cyril simply made sure he and his wyvern were properly outfitted for the weather. Pulling on his hood in case it did rain, he then jumped into the saddle and headed out.

Like any other day on patrol, nothing seemed to really happen. Until, near the end of the shift, Cyril spotted something approaching from the east.

On a closer look, he realized that something was, in fact, another wyvern. But with no way of knowing if this new arrival was friend or foe, Cyril readied his axe in preparation for the worst.

It soon turned out he had no cause for concern. As the rider approached, they started waving a white flag.

Cyril lowered his axe and flew toward them.

“What the…?”

He hadn’t seen an Almyran army uniform since his own days in the Almyran military, yet he still recognized it on sight.

He kept a tight grip on his axe, but did not raise it yet. News of the Almyran invasion had reached Fhirdiad some time ago, setting everyone on edge. Even more so with the Empire’s recent incursions into Kingdom territory. No one knew yet if Almyra was an enemy or an ally. He understood that the man’s white flag meant he came in peace, but Cyril wasn’t about to let his guard down.

“Stop!” he called to the approaching wyvern rider.

The rider halted, hovering in the air. They lowered their arm, putting the white flag away. Cyril flew closer, then halted his own wyvern.

An awkward pause ensued. The Almyran messenger stared at Cyril with raised eyebrows for a second.

“What are you doing here?” Cyril demanded.

The messenger snapped back to reality. He reached into the satchel hanging at his side, withdrawing a letter.

Then he began speaking in Almyran.

He went on for nearly a full minute before he finally noticed the confused look on Cyril’s face. To his chagrin, his fellow Almyran didn’t seem to understand a word he said.

“Uh,” he said. He glanced around, mildly panicking as he fumbled for the right words in the Fódlan language. “Message… for the king…”

“What?”

“Message! For the king!” the messenger repeated.

“Hey, calm down! I understood ya that time!” Cyril said. “What message?”

The messenger frowned. Cyril couldn’t decide if the man couldn’t understand what he was saying, or was just having difficulty forming a response.

“Ya know what? Forget it; just come with me.”

Cyril waved the man after him, and then pointed in the direction of the royal palace. Seeing what the boy had in mind, the messenger put the letter away. He followed Cyril down to the palace.

The two wyverns touched down in front of the gates. After explaining the situation to the guards, Cyril took the Almyran messenger through. He led him into the palace, straight to the throne room.

King Dimitri sat upright, lifting his chin from resting on his hand when he saw the two men enter. Lady Rhea, who had been standing off to the side, also turned her head to see.

Cyril came to a halt at the steps leading up to the throne. He bowed low. The messenger belatedly took his cue to do the same. Standing upright again, he then withdrew the letter from his satchel.

“A messenger from the Almyran army, Your Majesty,” Cyril said. He glanced at the other man. “Uh… he says the message is for you.”

Dimitri frowned. He extended his hand.

“Let me see it,” he said.

Cyril gestured for the messenger to go ahead and hand the letter over. The man gingerly approached the throne, holding out the letter. Dimitri took it. He opened it and took a moment to read it silently to himself.

Everyone was quiet while the king read the letter. Rhea approached the throne, looking curiously at the king, but keeping a respectable distance.

When Dimitri finished reading, he lowered the letter. His brow remained furrowed.

“Well?” Rhea asked.

Dimitri looked up.

“They want to form an alliance,” he said.

Rhea frowned as if unconvinced.

“With us?” she said. “Why?”

“Perhaps the rumors were true.”

“Rumors? Dimitri, you can’t really believe…”

Dimitri shook his head.

“This letter came from the Almyran queen herself,” he said, holding it up again. “She said outright that our kingdoms share a common enemy. Whatever their reasons for being here, the Almyran army could prove useful to us.”

Rhea closed her eyes for a moment.

“I see,” she said. She reopened her eyes. “What do you intend to do, then?”

Dimitri looked down, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

But before he could give an answer, the throne room doors burst open. A frantic, rain-drenched Kingdom soldier – a pegasus knight, from the look of the uniform – came running inside. She ran all the way from the door to the throne, clutching her side. Judging by the blood seeping through her uniform, she was wounded, and badly.

She all but collapsed in front of the throne. Dimitri stood up. He looked like he was about to call for someone to help her, but then she began to speak.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty…” she gasped out. “I am sorry to report… Arianrhod has fallen. Cornelia turned on us when the Imperial army arrived and…”

She spent the next minute coughing up blood. The two Almyran men tried to help her up, but she waved them away.

“Cornelia… betrayed us?” Dimitri said.

“We were overwhelmed,” the soldier went on, her breathing still labored and uneven. “Lady Ingrid… bade me warn you… I flew out as fast as I could… but I…”

Dimitri’s breath caught in his throat.

“And what of Lord Rodrigue? And Felix?”

The soldier shook her head.

“I… don’t know…” she said. “I didn’t see…”

Dimitri turned away. A deathly silence hung over the throne room for several seconds.

“Get a healer!” Dimitri yelled.

The soldier coughed more blood into her sleeve.

“Don’t…” she said. “It’s too late… for me…”

She dropped to her knees. A pair of guards walked over and picked her up before she could fall and carried her out of the room.

Meanwhile, Dimitri, still facing away from everyone, shook his head angrily. His lips moved, but no words came out. This went on for another minute before he finally turned around to face the court. And the Almyran messenger, still standing in front of the throne, waiting.

“Fine,” Dimitri growled. “She has forced my hand.” He pointed at the messenger. “I have an answer for you. Wait here.”

With that, he walked out of the throne room. Everyone else stayed put, exchanging confused and nervous glances with each other.

Fortunately, Dimitri returned not ten minutes later. He held his reply in his hand: a letter, sealed with the Blaiddyd royal seal.

“Take this to your queen,” Dimitri said, handing the letter to the Almyran messenger. “Tell her that the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus agrees to her offer of an alliance.”

The messenger took it and nodded. Shoving the letter into his satchel, he bowed again and saw himself out.

Once out of the throne room, he ran all the way to the palace entrance. He pushed open the double doors and ran out into the pouring rain.

* * *

Kasirga spent hours chasing after the Imperial cavalry, whittling down their numbers until their commander finally realized he was fighting a losing battle. Rather than surrender, however, the enemy attempted to retreat. Kasirga pressed them harder.

Less than forty survivors ended up fleeing to the western mountains. As the Almyran king did not want to pursue that far away from Derdriu, he let them go. He turned his wyvern corps around and flew back to reunite with the rest of the army.

On the way, he rendezvoused with the bow knight corps – also just returning after thoroughly routing another Imperial unit. Together, the cavalry and wyvern corps made their way back to the main force.

They found Nader, having assumed command of the main force, mopping up what remained of the mysterious enemy mage battalion and their small herd of Demonic Beasts. At the sight of his king, Nader lifted his bow into the air and shouted in triumph. The rest of the army joined in.

Kasirga rejoined his general, and the two landed their wyverns, allowing the beasts some much needed rest. Putting his bow away, Kasirga then hopped out of the saddle. He surveyed the bloody aftermath of the battle, strewn across the plain. He glanced toward Derdriu, where the smoke plumes still rose above the city.

“Where is our Fódlan friend?” he asked.

“I sent him to follow one of our infantry units into the city to rendezvous with the queen’s troops,” Nader replied.

“Ah.” Kasirga leaned forward and squinted to get a better look.

He still couldn’t tell what was happening from this distance. Then again, it didn’t matter. Even if the fighting wasn’t over yet, there was now nothing stopping him from providing support.

“Gather the troops,” Kasirga ordered. Despite his attempt to hide it, a smile came to his face. “It’s time to meet up with the other half of our force.”

Diana stood rooted to the spot for a full minute. She didn’t move a muscle. Her arm remained outstretched, hand still gripping the shamshir.

She had expected to run into some familiar faces.

Just not this one.

The last time she’d seen him, he was still a child. He had barely measured up to her waist back then. Now he towered over six feet tall, sporting a mane of pinkish-red hair that identified his Goneril heritage faster than the Crest emblazoned on his breastplate.

“_Holst?!” _she said.

Holst didn’t respond for a second. His mouth still hung open as though still reeling from shock himself.

He had known since meeting the king at Fódlan’s Locket that Claude’s mother was the queen of Almyra. And he had since put it together that she had to be none other than Lady Diana, given her disappearance all those years ago. A rumor had floated around back then, saying that she fled to a foreign land. Now Holst knew that rumor to be true. He just never expected to see her again.

Yet here she stood. Lady Diana, in the flesh.

Of course, time had taken its toll on her. There were hints of silver mixed in with the brown in her long, braided hair. Wrinkles had started to line her face. Physical appearance aside, however, she clearly had not lost any of the vigor she had been known for twenty-five years ago.

“Lady Dia- er, wait…” Holst said. “It’s ‘Your Majesty’, isn’t it?”

Finally, Diana moved. She relaxed, stood at ease while she sheathed her sword.

She glanced around the battlefield, noticing just how many Goneril soldiers were also here. And that they were fighting side by side with the Almyran soldiers.

“What’s all this?” she asked, gesturing at Holst’s troops. “Has House Goneril really allied itself with Almyra?”

“We have,” Holst replied. “We share a common enemy, after all.”

Diana raised her eyebrows. “Before this war, tales of your battle exploits reached even my ears,” she said. “I’m more surprised that my husband let you live at all.”

She paused.

“Speaking of which… where is he?” she said.

Holst pointed behind him, in the vague direction of the plains outside the city.

“We were attacked by Imperial reinforcements just before reaching the gates,” he said. “He’s probably still outside, dealing with them. Nader split the main force and sent me here with an Almyran unit to rendezvous with your forces.”

Diana nodded thoughtfully.

The commander of the Almyran unit that had accompanied the Goneril forces began speaking to her queen in Almyran, confirming Holst’s story, as well as giving a separate report of her own. The two became absorbed in their own conversation, leaving Holst to wait.

While he waited, he turned his attention back to his troops. He started to gather his soldiers in the square. They were nearly fully assembled when he heard Queen Diana call his name again.

“Until my husband arrives, we need to hunt down any stragglers left in the city,” she said.

She stopped herself before going on, however, turning her attention instead in the direction of the gates.

Holst turned around. He’d heard it too. The heavy, armored footfalls of a company of approaching soldiers. But if they were coming from the gates, Holst had a good guess as to who these soldiers were. Sure enough, when they came into view a few seconds later, he was proven right.

“There you are!” Nader yelled.

Nader and Kasirga rounded the street corner first, with a small entourage of Almyran soldiers following only a second behind them. They seemed to have left their wyverns outside, as they came in on foot, and their mounts were nowhere in sight.

Once Kasirga and Diana saw each other, both their faces instantly lit up.

“You’re late!” Diana called to him in Almyran, though she was beaming as she said it.

“What are you talking about?” Kasirga shot back, also smiling.

Holst looked back and forth between the two, confused. Nader laughed.

A moment later, the Almyran king and his general joined the queen and the Alliance general in the center of the square. The four of them exchanged glances.

“Derdriu is finally ours,” Diana said, switching back to Fódlanese so Holst could understand. “At least, once we’ve completely eliminated the Imperial presence here…”

“Still some stragglers, huh?” Nader looked around. “Looks like your forces will have that cleaned up in no time.”

“They’ll try to escape through the gates,” Diana said. “How about you and the main force guard it, to ensure no one escapes?”

Kasirga’s smile faded. “They’re already doing that,” he said. “Nader and I simply came into the city to find you.”

“Ah. Of course.”

The meeting was interrupted by an Almyran soldier running up to them. While he panted for breath, he also pointed in the direction of the noble section of town. Between breaths, he would say something in Almyran.

Diana’s smile instantly vanished.

“What did you find?” she asked, in Almyran.

The soldier started to respond, but Diana didn’t give him time to finish. She stopped him with an upraised hand, then grabbed Holst by the arm.

“Come with me,” she said. Then, looking at Kasirga, she said, “Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Holst furrowed his brow, looking utterly lost.

“What do you need me for?” he asked.

“I need you to help me investigate something,” she answered cryptically, then took off before Holst could protest.

Holst shrugged and followed her.

Nader and Kasirga exchanged confused looks.

“It was probably just confiscated goods,” Nader said. “Why is she so worked up about it?”

Kasirga shook his head. “Sometimes I have no idea what goes on in her head,” he admitted. “However, while we’re waiting, there’s something I’ve been wondering…”

Holst followed Diana, who followed the Almyran soldier. He led them into the nobles’ district, and, more specifically, right to the center of it. To an ornately designed mansion that was conspicuously larger than the buildings around it.

The Alliance standards that normally flew in front of its oaken double doors had long since been torn down, though the Imperial flags that replaced them had also been torn down. Small shreds of the fabric littered the porch. Holst came up to the walkway and abruptly stopped.

The Riegan mansion. Holst had only visited the place a few times, and that in his youth. Strangely, it looked much the same as he remembered. It had sustained little damage, at least on the outside.

Diana and the soldier had also come to a halt. The queen stared at her former home in silence.

At last, she tore her gaze away from it. She looked at Holst.

“According to my troops, the enemy had been using this place as their headquarters,” she said, her voice going into an unsettling monotone. “They have also been keeping some confiscated items here.”

“Confiscated items?” Holst asked. “Like what?”

Diana did not answer. She went up to the doors and pulled them open, leaving Holst no choice but to follow her inside.

The interior was just as clean as the exterior. At least the Imperial army had kept their appropriated headquarters in good condition during their stay. But Diana strode right through the foyer without comment. Her mind was clearly fixated on finding something in particular.

“Show me.”

Her command was directed at the soldier. Whatever this thing was, he clearly already knew where to find it. He took the lead once again, bringing the group to the stairs. Up the stairs, down the hall, and, finally, into what used to be Duke Riegan’s private office.

The office had clearly been adapted for Imperial use, with a stack of paperwork bearing the Imperial seal covering the desk. But no one had any interest in the papers.

The soldier pointed to the far corner of the room. To the enormous black lacquer chest sitting there.

“Is it locked?” Diana asked the soldier.

He shook his head.

“We managed to pick the lock,” he said.

“Why didn’t you just bring it to me, then?”

The soldier swallowed, suddenly looking fearful.

“It… had this evil-looking eye. I was afraid to touch it…” he said.

Diana’s eyebrows shot up.

“Open it,” she commanded.

The soldier bent down, somewhat nervously, gripping the lid of the chest. He pulled it open effortlessly, then backed away.

Diana had to cover her mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped her throat.

“So this is where it was being kept…” she muttered.

She bent down, closing her right hand around the grip, and pulled Failnaught out of the chest. At her touch, the weapon’s Crest Stone – the ‘eye’, as the Almyran soldier had described it – began to pulsate and glow red.

Holst caught a glance inside the chest as well. His heart skipped a beat. Failnaught wasn’t the only weapon in there.

He reached in, firmly gripping Freikugel’s handle in both hands as he took it out of the chest. Its Crest Stone also pulsated and glowed red as it resonated with its newfound wielder’s Crest. He stared at it in awe, but only for a few seconds. He looked down, his expression turning dour.

“I let my sister Hilda borrow this when she came here to fight alongside Claude,” Holst said.

Diana lowered Failnaught and looked at Holst.

“Her body was never returned,” he continued. He sighed, closing his eyes. “And now that I’ve come all the way to Derdriu, all I can find is our family’s Relic…”

Diana’s face fell.

“I never knew you had a sister,” she said.

“I at least want to know where they buried her,” Holst went on. He blinked a couple times, realizing his vision had gone blurry suddenly.

“I want to know the same thing about my son.” Diana blinked back tears of her own. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen. He’s gone. And this bow is all I have left to remember him by.”

Holst looked up.

“I… my apologies, Your Majesty… I should have realized you were in the same position…”

“No apology necessary.” Diana slung Failnaught on her back. “But there will be time to mourn later. Come. The others are waiting for us.”

Holst nodded while Diana made her way back into the hall. She and the soldier that guided them here both made their way back to the stairs, but Holst lingered a bit. He leaned over the open chest, looking to see what else might have been confiscated, but found nothing. The chest was now empty.

Holding Freikugel in just one hand, Holst put his other hand on the chest lid. He slammed it shut, then walked out.


	10. Chapter 10

Derdriu was in shambles.

The fires resulting from the battle had scorched every building in the harbor. Some buildings were completely destroyed, with only piles of rubble and ash remaining. Over the course of the battle, the fires had also spread into the merchants’ quarter, burning down a couple of the shops. Those fires burned well into the evening, despite the Almyran army’s efforts to put them out. It took until sundown to finally extinguish the last one.

Blood painted the streets red. Even after the survivors had cleared the streets of the dead, one could still trace the path of the battle by the trails of blood left in the cobblestone.

The doors of shops and homes lay broken off their hinges. Shattered glass and other debris littered the ground as well.

With the battle finally over, however, the commanders rejoined their forces to assess their losses, and deal with the aftermath. Queen Diana’s forces, having been engaged in the battle since early that morning, suffered the heaviest losses. At least one ship was destroyed. A few more sustained damage from enemy fire, and needed repair. And the units that had participated in the initial charge suffered heavy casualties. One company had only twenty soldiers left that were not either killed or wounded.

Holst’s Goneril troops and the Almyran vanguard also suffered. Though their losses were not as extreme, Holst was still met with a painful sight upon reuniting with his troops. Their ranks had noticeably shrunk since setting out from the Locket.

But that didn’t stop the ripple of excitement that moved through them when he returned to the square, Freikugel in hand. Seeing the Goneril family’s fabled Relic weapon back in their general’s hands was enough to raise their spirits. Holst smiled. They – and he – deserved to take some joy in their victory, after all.

Unfortunately, that joy was short-lived. Not long after he and Diana returned to the square to meet up with Nader and Kasirga again, the four of them agreed they needed to devise a plan of action for their next move.

“Now that Derdriu is under our control, our next objective would be to find and defeat Edelgard herself, right?” Holst asked.

Kasirga nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “And all reports say she’s headed into Faerghus territory. So that’s where we’re going.”

“If that’s the case, then it might be worth it to reach out to King Dimitri and form an alliance with the Kingdom,” Holst said.

Diana smirked.

“Already done,” she said. “My messenger will be back any day now with the king’s reply.”

“Oh.” Holst blinked, pleasantly surprised.

“That could change our plan a bit,” Nader said. He looked at Kasirga. “If we’re headed to the Kingdom instead, are we still going to march as a combined force?”

Kasirga stroked his chin thoughtfully. He and Diana exchanged glances.

“I could sail the fleet up the coast and rendezvous with Kingdom forces there,” Diana suggested.

“While my army catches up from the south?” Kasirga finished. “We’d be at least a day behind you if we did that. Though, depending on how the Imperial army acts, that would be the perfect setup for a pincer attack…”

“Hmm… sounds like a plan,” Nader said.

A brief pause followed, while they all looked at each other, waiting for someone to object or give more input. When no one said anything, they dispersed.

They had a plan. And tomorrow, they would put it in action.

Diana returned to the fleet to prepare. She spent the remaining hours of daylight reorganizing the troops, checking on the wounded, and sending word of her and King Kasirga’s plan to the other ship captains. By the time all that was done, the sun had nearly vanished beneath the horizon.

She paused, looking out at the sunset from the deck of the flagship. She glanced down at Failnaught, which she had set next to her, leaning against the side of the ship. Given the late hour, she knew she should have retired to bed. But she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her mind.

A set of armored footfalls coming up the gangplank caught her attention. She turned to look.

It was Kasirga. Diana straightened up, looking questioningly at him.

“What is it, love?” she asked.

Kasirga came up onto the deck. He stopped right in front of her.

“My forces are all prepared to move out,” he said. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“The fleet is also prepared,” Diana said. “We will be-”

Kasirga reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, stopping her mid-sentence.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Diana placed her hand on Kasirga’s. The two looked each other in the eye.

“I’m fine,” Diana said.

“Are you sure?”

Diana sighed and closed her eyes. While she did this, Kasirga stole a glance down at Failnaught. He stared at it, frowning. Curiosity nagged at him, but he didn’t want to let go of Diana either. Fighting down the urge to pick up the strange weapon, he looked back at her instead.

“You were acting strange even before you came back with that bow,” Kasirga said. “It looks nothing like any bow I’ve ever seen. And our Alliance ally, Holst… he came back with you, carrying a strange-looking weapon of his own.”

Diana opened her eyes. She let go of her husband’s hand, reaching for Failnaught instead.

“Is that bow… special?” Kasirga asked.

Diana clutched the weapon protectively close to her body.

“Yes,” she said. “This is the legendary bow, Failnaught. It is a powerful weapon that has been passed down through the Riegan family for centuries. Arash inherited it when he took leadership of House Riegan. He would have wielded it in battle when Emperor Edelgard invaded…”

Kasirga lowered his hand.

“I see,” he said.

“You know, I was supposed to inherit this bow myself, had I not left Fódlan when I did,” Diana continued. “Looks like it found its way into my hands regardless.”

She turned her head, looking away from Kasirga and out at the harbor instead.

“Diana…” he said.

“Still…” Diana lifted her arm, holding the bow out. It began to glow red. “Now that I have it, I may as well use it. Emperor Edelgard_ will_ see its crimson aura on the battlefield again.”

In addition to taking care of his own troops, Holst spent the much of the remainder of the day in the city, helping as best he could with the aftermath of the battle. Some of his troops joined him, helping their Almyran allies put out the fires in the harbor and merchants’ quarter. Once the fires were extinguished, most of the troops dispersed, returning to their respective armies’ camps for the night. Holst, however, lingered in the city a little longer.

Even though the battle had ended hours ago, the city streets were still eerily quiet and desolate. Holst assumed it was because the civilians had evacuated days before and not yet returned, but that made the atmosphere no less unsettling. And it only became more so as the sun slipped below the horizon.

Holst walked back through the square alone in the dark, carrying a torch in one hand, and Freikugel in the other. First, he wandered through the square. Then he proceeded to the harbor.

To his surprise, he noticed light from another torch hovering in the far corner of the pier, away from the Almyran warships. Curiosity took over, and Holst went to investigate.

“Nader?”

Nader stood by the set of arches in the center of the platform, facing the water, holding the torch in his left hand. He did not turn around at the sound of his name, prompting Holst to continue walking closer. He walked up beside him and stopped.

Now that he stood close enough to him, Holst could hear Nader muttering something in Almyran. Although Nader’s head was up, his eyes open, and his free arm resting at his side, it occurred to Holst that the Almyran general’s muttering was probably some kind of prayer. Holst took a step backward. However, the muttering had already stopped.

Nader turned to look at him.

“Oh, sorry… did I interrupt?” Holst asked.

“Nah, I had just finished, actually,” Nader said.

“I see.” Holst glanced around, thinking. “If I may ask… what were you doing?”

“Just reciting a short prayer.”

Holst raised his eyebrows a little. Even though he hadn’t thought Nader to be a religious man, his guess had turned out correct after all.

The two of them fell silent for a minute.

Holst’s attention turned inward. Thinking about it, he knew neither he nor the rest of House Goneril were ever devout followers of the Seiros faith. Holst himself rarely prayed. Only once in his recent memory could he remember doing so – at the family’s memorial service for Hilda the week after Derdriu fell.

He looked back at Nader.

“Were you and Claude close?” Holst asked. “I know he was the prince, but…”

“I was his combat instructor,” Nader said. “I taught him everything from archery to wyvern riding from practically since he could walk. I used to call him ‘kiddo’ all the time… dunno if he was overly fond of the nickname, though.”

“That sounds similar to how Hilda and I were raised,” Holst said. “Our father hired a tutor to train us in combat from a young age as well. Although, Hilda didn’t much care for it. She always had the wildest excuses to get out of the day’s training. But Father doted on her so much he always let her get away with it.”

Nader raised an eyebrow.

“Did he now?” he said with a chuckle. “I never would have guessed by the way your sister fought.” Gesturing at Freikugel, he added, “She felled a lot of Imperial troops with that axe. You almost couldn’t see its glow through all the blood by the time she fell.”

Holst froze. It was one thing to hear the report that Hilda had given her life in defense of the city. Hearing from Nader that she had taken so many Imperial soldiers down with her was quite different.

It was almost comforting, in a way. His ‘delicate flower’ sister, who had shown so little promise on the battlefield early on, holding her own against an Imperial onslaught. Even though she was gone, Holst knew he had been right to give her the Relic. She had more than proven herself with it.

Tightening his grip on the axe’s handle, Holst steeled his resolve.

“I bet the Empire already knows I’ve joined your ranks,” Holst said. “But I wonder what they’ll think when they see House Goneril’s Relic on the battlefield again…”

Nader’s lips tugged upward in a smirk.

“Well, _I’ll _bet they also know that the king himself is leading the army,” he said. “And don’t forget the queen got Arash’s bow back as well. I can’t wait to see the look on the enemy’s face when they see _that _weapon again…”

It was Holst’s turn to smile.

“You know what, General Nader? You’re absolutely right.”

* * *

With the aid of Cornelia and her Titanus, Arianrhod proved an easy victory for the Strike Force. Edelgard and her allies routed the Kingdom army in under two hours. By nightfall, the Imperial army had expelled all enemy forces and occupied the fort. And before everyone retired to bed that evening, Edelgard made the announcement that they would be back on the march at dawn the next morning. Reactions were mixed, but she was not surprised.

On the one hand, they had won a major victory. On the other, the Almyran army was still fast approaching. Everyone knew time was of the essence, but at the same time, the gambit Edelgard and her allies had planned was their riskiest yet.

To make matters worse, a messenger arrived that same evening, coming from Alliance territory.

Though most of the Strike Force had dispersed for the evening, the messenger caught Edelgard in the great hall of the fort. She, Hubert, and Byleth were standing around one of the tables, about to wrap up their meeting when the messenger walked in. After giving a quick bow, he delivered his report.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he began, voice trembling. “But I have grave news. The Almyran army has taken Derdriu. Our reinforcements failed to halt their advance, and the city garrison…”

He halted, averting his gaze.

“Go on,” Edelgard said. She clasped her hands together in front of her to prevent them from balling into fists. She already had a guess at what he was going to say.

“The garrison was wiped out,” he said. “Lord Arundel and Count Bergliez… were both killed.”

A muscle jerked in Edelgard’s cheek. However, she kept silent this time.

“The Almyran army now controls the entire Leicester region,” the messenger went on. “We’ve lost all Alliance support, with Gloucester dead, Edmund captured, and Goneril joining the enemy. And no one’s heard anything from Ordelia…”

He paused to take a deep breath before continuing.

“The battle survivors retreated back to Garreg Mach,” he said. “They’ve requested reinforcements from Fort Merceus, but those won’t arrive for at least three days.”

A silence fell on the great hall. The messenger looked pleadingly at Edelgard as if waiting for her to have a solution. An answer to the question he was too afraid to ask.

“Where is the Almyran army now?” Edelgard asked. “Have they set out from Derdriu yet?”

“They hadn’t when I left to deliver this report,” the messenger said. “But that was days ago. They have almost certainly moved out by now…”

Edelgard nodded. “Understood,” she said.

She calmly dismissed him. He bowed low, then turned around and headed out of the great hall. Edelgard watched him intently until the doors of the hall closed behind him. Only once he was gone did she turn to look at Hubert and Byleth.

“Some of our heaviest losses yet,” Edelgard said. She rested her hands on the tabletop. “My uncle, and our Minister of Military Affairs, both adept commanders in their own right…”

Hubert folded his arms, his own expression also turning grim.

“Yes,” he said. “And the Almyrans will now undoubtedly try to reach out to the Kingdom to form an alliance. Our time window for capturing Fhirdiad is dwindling.”

“It can still be done,” Byleth said. “But we have to move quickly and strike decisively.”

“Agreed,” Hubert said. “Fortunately, we have Cornelia and her Titanus to help with that.”

“Speaking of which, Hubert, I need you to brief Cornelia on her new role in our army,” Edelgard said. She looked down at her hands, tapping her finger nervously on the table. “The professor and I will speak to the others.”

“Of course.”

Hubert bowed and headed for the door. Edelgard and Byleth followed a few paces behind him. While Hubert quickly disappeared around one corner, Edelgard and Byleth went in the opposite direction.

Some of their friends yet remained out in the courtyard despite the late hour. Caspar, Petra and Dorothea stood by one of the pillars, about a dozen paces away from the walkway leading further into the fort. They cut their conversation short as Edelgard and Byleth approached.

“Hello, Edie,” Dorothea said. Her eyes seemed unusually tired. Her voice melancholy.

Edelgard looked at each one of the three in turn. But she didn’t get the chance to say anything.

“I already heard what happened,” Caspar said, eyes downcast, unable to meet Edelgard’s gaze.

Byleth’s face fell.

“I’m sorry, Caspar,” they said.

Caspar did not respond.

“Professor,” Dorothea said. She looked Byleth in the eye. “Be honest with us. Do we still stand a chance? We haven’t even defeated the Kingdom and church yet…”

“But we are nearing the goal of defeating them,” Petra cut in, trying to reassure her.

“Exactly. We have no choice but to prevail at Fhirdiad,” Edelgard said. “Caspar. Your father and my uncle’s deaths will not be in vain. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know, but…”

“The Almyran army has not yet caught up to us,” Byleth said. “Once we’ve taken Fhirdiad, then we can focus on defeating them.”

“Yeah…”

There was no enthusiasm in Caspar’s voice. His eyes still clouded with grief, he flashed Byleth a joyless smile before dismissing himself. Everyone else stared after him, temporarily lost for words. However, it didn’t take long for Petra and Dorothea to take their leave as well, retiring to bed for the night. As Byleth and Edelgard soon discovered, the rest of the Strike Force had also gone to bed.

Edelgard roused the army before dawn the next morning. The army needed to be back on the march by sunrise.

She, the Strike Force, and their allies scrambled to make their preparations. Still, the army managed to assemble and move out on schedule. Just as the sun started to rise, the Imperial army marched out of Arianrhod’s gates, headed north.

There was only one problem.

Dark clouds coming down from the north signaled a storm was headed in their direction. And it caught them, just a few miles south of the Tailtean Plains. Within minutes, every soldier was soaked. The path turned to mud.

Edelgard bit her lip, gripping Aymr tightly as she looked at the downpour.

“This will slow our progress,” she said. “And we can ill afford to be caught in a surprise attack in these conditions.”

“Agreed,” Hubert said. “However, our scouts are already searching the route to Fhirdiad. If there is any activity by the church or Kingdom armies, we will know.”

“I know,” Edelgard said. “But that’s the other problem. Our scouts should have found them by now. I thought Dimitri would have tried to intercept us on the Plains…”

* * *

After sending the Almyran messenger out with his reply, Dimitri immediately set the Kingdom forces in motion. He dismissed the court, deciding to hold an emergency meeting in the war room instead.

The meeting lasted less than an hour. And the moment the doors reopened, Dimitri and the others went to put their new plan into motion.

Rhea ordered Catherine to mobilize the knights. Dimitri gathered his friends and the commanders of the rest of the Kingdom forces, giving them their orders. He tasked some of them with evacuating the citizens out of Fhirdiad. Knowing that the Almyran army was approaching, Edelgard and the Imperial army were certain to strike as fast as possible, and they needed to be prepared. The rest had to help mobilize the Kingdom army, to prepare for the coming battle.

After receiving their orders, Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes took their leave. They joined up with their respective units and went to work.

Meanwhile, Dimitri himself stopped briefly in the royal suite. He returned to the throne room with Areadbhar in hand.

Sylvain and Dedue waited for him there, just as Dimitri had instructed. Dimitri waved them over, and the three gathered at the foot of the stairs in front of the throne.

“Sylvain, I need you to muster the cavalry,” Dimitri said. “Secure the route to Fraldarius territory. We’ll need it for coordinating our counterattack.”

“Okay,” Sylvain said. “What about you?”

“I will lead the rest of our forces, but I still need to finish making preparations,” Dimitri replied. Then, to Dedue, he added, “Dedue, you’ll be staying with me.”

Dedue nodded.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“All right. That is all.”

Dimitri glanced around as if checking to make sure hadn’t forgotten anything. Apparently satisfied, he waved Dedue after him and walked out of the throne room. Sylvain hesitated for a second, then followed them out.

He finished his preparations quickly. He donned his armor, saddled his horse, checked his equipment, then took up his lance. Finally, he gathered his cavalry battalion like Dimitri had ordered.

They rode out of Fhirdiad that night.


	11. Chapter 11

Queen Diana’s messenger returned the next morning with the letter from King Dimitri. He first handed it to the captain, who then delivered it to Diana’s quarters.

Dimitri had accepted her offer. Now all that remained for the army and fleet was to move out.

Kasirga returned to the Almyran army camp. While he had his troops strike camp and begin their march to Kingdom territory, Diana signaled her fleet to prepare to sail out of the harbor.

She strode across the deck, pausing by the steps leading belowdecks. Since reclaiming Failnaught, she had added a quiver of arrows to her outfit. The quiver hung on her back, and, for the time being, she had the bow slung on her back as well. She caught a few of the crewmembers eyeing the weapon strangely, but they never said anything. Not that she cared. Just so long as no one tried to touch it.

Throughout the fleet, the crews made ready. Now they simply awaited the queen’s order. Before giving the order to set sail, however, she stopped by the brig.

Unlikely as it seemed, Kasirga had made allies with House Goneril. And now she had word from both Holst and Edmund himself that House Edmund opposed the Empire. Perhaps there was no longer any reason to hold the margrave prisoner.

Edmund certainly posed no threat to the Almyran army. By the time he could make it back to his home territory, the Almyran forces would be well out of his reach. Therefore, not wanting to spend any more of the fleet’s resources on keeping him prisoner, the queen ultimately decided to let him off in Derdriu. He could whatever he pleased from there.

She personally brought him up to the deck, sending him down the gangplank before the crew raised it. Edmund looked down at the docks, then back at Diana.

“Do you want to go home or not?” Diana said impatiently.

“What changed your mind?” Edmund asked.

“Well, if you absolutely must know, I found out yesterday that Lord Holst has allied himself with my husband’s forces,” Diana replied. “He was kind enough to vouch for you, and I decided to take his word for it.”

Edmund’s eyes went wide.

“Lord Holst joined forces with Almyra?” he said.

“He did,” Diana said. “Don’t look so shocked. Holst has his reasons for choosing Almyra over the Empire. If you’re curious, go ask him. Though I suggest you hurry; the army is moving out soon.”

Edmund looked skeptical, but he knew further argument was pointless. So he gave up and walked the rest of the way down onto the dock. The second he stepped off the gangplank, the crew moved in to raise it.

With Edmund finally off her hands, Diana immediately turned around and began issuing orders to the crew. All the preparations were complete; now they could leave. They would reach their destination in under a week if conditions stayed favorable, but she didn’t want to waste any more time.

Within the hour, the entire fleet was under way. Now it was simply a matter of following the coastline north to the Fraldarius port.

* * *

Meanwhile, King Kasirga and the ground troops had a more difficult route ahead of them.

A mountain range formed a natural border between the Alliance and Kingdom. According to the maps, there did exist a narrow valley through which they could pass to Galatea territory. Its name was Ailell, but according to Holst, it had another name as well: The Valley of Torment.

Supposedly the result of the Fódlan goddess’ wrath, this narrow stretch of wasteland had a reputation for being unbearably hot year-round, and parts of the ground itself still burned as if with eternal flame.

Despite the dangers, it was still the fastest route. The army would simply have to move carefully, staying on high alert both for environmental hazards as well as possible enemy ambush. As they approached the valley entrance, Kasirga detached some of the wyvern corps from the main force, sending them to scout ahead.

Holst’s warnings proved to be no exaggeration. The heat threatened to cook the soldiers in their armor. Parts of the ground were indeed inundated with molten lava, and even the parts that weren’t still burned the soldiers’ feet. Though tempted to hurry through, Kasirga forced himself to maintain the regular pace. Pushing the troops harder would only result in needless casualties from heat stroke.

Mercifully, Ailell was a small area. They made it all the way across by the end of the day. Once they cleared the valley, the scouts rejoined the main force. Kasirga then immediately called a halt to let the troops rest.

Nader landed his wyvern. He reached for his canteen, only to realize he had already drunk the last of his water an hour before. Throughout the army, and among Holst’s troops as well, everyone had the same issue. The unforgiving heat made them go through their water supply at an alarming rate.

Knowing they couldn’t go anywhere until they replenished their water supply, Kasirga promptly took off again in search of a water source. He found a river several miles to the south.

It was slightly out of the way, but it would have to do. He returned to the army and directed them to the river. There, they got their water and set up camp for the night.

Nader set his newly filled canteen down with the rest of his equipment inside his tent. He looked up just as Kasirga walked past.

“How much time are we going to lose for this little detour?” he asked.

“Hopefully not that much,” Kasirga said. “We made it through that valley in good time, and this isn’t far off our planned route.”

“Ah…” Nader took a sweeping glance across the camp. “Did King Dimitri say where exactly his troops were going to meet us? Or is it just wherever we happen to run into them?”

“My wife will send a messenger once her fleet joins with the Kingdom on the Fraldarius coast,” Kasirga said. “We’ll most likely have only reached Conand Tower by then.”

Nader nodded his understanding. With that, Kasirga resumed his walk back to his tent. Nader retreated into his own tent, doused his lantern and lay down on his makeshift bed.

The next day, the army marched north through Galatea territory. Once again, Kasirga detached the cavalry and wyvern corps from the main force to screen the terrain. He handed command of the wyvern troops to Nader, letting him lead the scouting mission.

“Be on the alert for both Imperial and Kingdom troops,” Kasirga said. “If Kingdom forces appear, call for parley. If you meet Imperial troops, fly back at once.”

“Got it.”

Nader gave his wyvern the command and took off.

He led the wyvern corps out to scan the western edge of Galatea territory, while the cavalry headed north. For a while, he saw nothing. But as he pushed further west, skirting the edge of the Tailtean Plains, he finally detected movement.

A massive storm blanketed the Plains, greatly reducing visibility. Nader could see a large army ahead, but he would need to fly closer in order to identify them. He slowed the wyvern corps’ movements, tailing the unidentified army from a safe distance.

Nader wrapped the reins around his wrist, his grip having slipped a few times in the rain. While his wyvern hovered in midair, he leaned forward and carefully surveyed the scene in front of him. He sat there for several minutes, watching the army’s movement.

“They’re headed north…” he muttered to himself.

As far as he could tell, they hadn’t spotted him and the wyvern corps yet. They seemed too intently focused on something further north, but it was impossible to tell what it was from this distance and through the heavy rain.

“Sir… you think that’s the Imperial army?” one of the wyvern riders asked.

“It has to be.” Nader nudged his wyvern and turned it around. “Come on. We have to alert His Majesty and the rest of the army.”

* * *

Edelgard continued to push the Imperial army across the Tailtean Plains in spite of the heavy rain. Progress was frustratingly slow, but she forced herself to maintain an outward appearance of calm. Though delayed, the Kingdom’s defeat was still inevitable. That was the mantra she repeated to herself and to the army.

After a couple days into the march, the rain let up. But just as things had started to look better, they ran into a different problem.

Byleth had sent out a handful of wyvern riders that morning to survey the Plains and search the route to Fhirdiad for any sign of either the church or the Kingdom army. Several hours later, they returned.

Edelgard called a halt. She, Hubert, and Byleth gathered to listen to the scouts’ report.

They had found nothing.

“No one? Are you absolutely sure?” Edelgard said.

“We flew over Fhirdiad several times, Your Majesty,” one of the scouts said. “The streets were empty. There weren’t even guards patrolling the walls. It’s like the whole city’s been abandoned…”

“It’s hard to tell because of the poor visibility,” the other scout quickly joined in. “But we did see movement further out. It’s possible the Kingdom and church armies left Fhirdiad in search of a more defensible position.”

“But from the sound of it, they also evacuated all the civilians,” Hubert said. “They must still be expecting us to attack Fhirdiad.”

“I don’t see them abandoning it and expecting us to rush in so they can trap us there,” Byleth said. “They’ve got to have something else planned…”

“They’re probably headed east, hoping to reach their Almyran allies before we can catch them,” Edelgard said. “If that’s the case, we need to intercept them, and -”

Without warning, Byleth ran forward, drawing the Sword of the Creator from its sheath. They extended it into its whip shape and lashed it at something in the air above.

That something, everyone quickly realized, was a wyvern rider. With an entire company of wyvern riders not far behind. Byleth’s strike narrowly missed the wyvern’s wing, but it was enough to force the rider to pull away and retreat. The rest of their company flew back with them.

By the time Byleth retracted their blade, the Imperial snipers had already moved into position, prepared to unleash a deadly volley should the wyvern riders attempt to return. They watched as their enemy retreated northward, eventually disappearing into the black clouds on the horizon.

Byleth lowered their sword. Edelgard continued to stare at them in shock.

“My teacher…” she said. “How did you…”

“That was probably just a scouting unit,” Byleth said. “The enemy is nearby.”

“Should we search for them?” the first Imperial scout suggested.

“No; the enemy is about to attempt to intercept us,” Byleth said. “Return to your units. Once we are back on the move, they will strike soon enough.”

“Understood.”

The scouts saluted and did as they were commanded.

“Very well,” Edelgard said.

She held up Aymr and gave the command for the army to go back on the march. Moments later, she, Byleth, and the rest of the army began marching forward again. She walked side by side with her former teacher, still staring somewhat in awe. Still impressed at how they had anticipated the attack. Like she had observed before, it felt like they could read the enemy’s mind.

Byleth kept their sword at the ready as they marched. As the adrenaline rush wore off, they stole a glance at Edelgard.

They had let those wyverns to get too close the first time, and Byleth wasn’t going to take any chances. Edelgard’s safety was paramount. Especially now, with three enemy armies coming for them.

The Imperial army had embarked on its most dangerous mission yet. But Byleth unconsciously tightened their grip on their sword as a new, disturbing thought occurred to them.

They were sorely outnumbered. The odds were stacked against them. Byleth could almost guarantee they would need to use the power of Divine Pulse again to pull a victory. But they had used their divine powers before; that wasn’t the disturbing part.

Rather, it was the echo of a familiar voice. And the warning she had given them years ago, when first granting them her power over time.

“_I shall allow you to turn back the hands of time… but know that this power is not infinite!”_

“Byleth?”

Edelgard’s voice snapped them back to reality.

“What is it?”

“You look unwell… is something wrong?”

“No… I’m fine.”

Edelgard frowned, unconvinced. Fortunately, she did not press the issue. Still, Byleth forced themselves to maintain an outwardly calm expression for the remainder of the march.

Which turned out to be as short as they expected. Just as they predicted, a mixed company of wyvern riders and pegasus knights appeared to the north less than thirty minutes later. Edelgard and the other Imperial commanders began shouting orders, moving the army into battle formation.

This was it. The final phase of their gambit had begun.

* * *

The black clouds approaching from the north initially made everyone nervous, but as the fleet neared the Fraldarius port, they let out a collective sigh of relief. From the look of it, that massive storm was headed for the western plains rather than the coast. Better yet, the storm had not made it that far south by the time the Almyran fleet pulled into port.

Diana led her troops down the gangplank and onto the docks. To her pleasant surprise, some of the Kingdom forces were already there to greet her. Their commander – a tall, ginger-haired young man – stepped forward to greet the Almyran queen as she disembarked. The second he laid eyes on her, he had to clench his jaw shut to stop his mouth from dropping open. He tilted his head slightly downward, hoping she would not notice the color rising in his cheeks.

She halted right in front of him.

“My name is Diana; I am the queen of Almyra,” she said. “King Dimitri said he would be sending a company of Faerghus knights to rendezvous with my forces here. I take it you are the commander?”

“Y-yes, of course, Your Majesty…” He bowed awkwardly. “My name is Sylvain Jose Gautier. A pleasure – er, it is an honor – to meet you.”

Sylvain bit his lip against making any further comment than that. As beautiful as the Almyran queen was, he needed to focus. The Kingdom was still in danger.

“All right, General Gautier,” Diana said. “What is the current situation with the Imperial army?”

She took off walking at a brisk pace toward the harbor entrance, so Sylvain had to turn around and run to catch her. Meanwhile, his knights and the Almyran soldiers followed them.

“The Imperial army captured Arianrhod at roughly the same time your messenger arrived in Fhirdiad,” Sylvain said. Half a second later, he caught up to Diana. He walked alongside her as he continued his report. “They’re probably en route to Fhirdiad as we speak.”

“How far out?”

“Uh… I don’t know. His Majesty sent me to secure the route between here and Fhirdiad pretty much immediately, so I don’t know exactly where they are.”

“Then they could be anywhere.”

Diana halted. Sylvain took half a step past her before catching himself and stopping next to her. Turning to face her troops as they continued to leave the ships, she shouted out a command in Almyran. The unit commanders then began to shout out commands of their own, and the Almyran forces started to form columns.

“Uh…” Sylvain said.

“I take it King Dimitri is waiting for us in Fhirdiad?” Diana said. “We should move out and combine our forces with his as quickly as possible.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Diana spun around to find where the new voice had come from. Two men, both towering over six feet tall and wearing heavy armor, approached her and Sylvain from the harbor’s entrance. It was the blond-haired man in the enormous blue cloak and carrying a Heroes’ Relic that had spoken, Diana realized. His taller, Duscurian companion carried an axe, and kept silent. Diana eyed each of them carefully.

Between the Blaiddyd regalia on the blond man’s armor, and the Relic in his hand, Diana could tell who this was even before he identified himself.

“King Dimitri,” she said, inclining her head respectfully.

Dimitri halted, taken somewhat aback.

“Queen Diana, I presume?” he said, returning Diana’s gesture.

“That’s right.” She looked at Dimitri’s thus far silent companion. “And is this man your vassal?”

“Yes. His name is Dedue.”

“Your Majesty.” Dedue bowed low. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

With the introductions done, everyone paused for a moment. Sylvain, Dimitri, and Diana all exchanged glances with each other.

Dimitri’s eyes shifted to the bow Diana had slung on her back. His eyebrows went up again.

Rumors had abounded ever since the Almyran fleet had appeared at Ulster. Many people claimed that the Almyran queen was not Almyran at all, but a long-lost Alliance noblewoman. The long-lost Lady Diana of House Riegan, to be exact.

Dimitri already knew full well this was her. For once, rumors had proved true.

He should not have been surprised to see House Riegan’s Relic in her possession.

“Something wrong?” Diana asked.

Dimitri shook his head.

“No, it’s just…” He gestured at Failnaught. “That Relic on your back…”

“Oh, this?”

Diana reached for Failnaught, unslinging it from her back and holding it out for everyone else to see. Sylvain edged closer to get a better look at it.

“The Empire confiscated it when they took Derdriu,” Diana said. “I just took it back from them, is all. City and Relic both.”

She lowered her arm, letting the bow rest at her side.

“However, I didn’t come here for either of those things,” she continued.

“I didn’t think you would have,” Dimitri said. “As soon as I’d heard who you were, I knew why you had come.” He paused, taking a breath. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty… Claude was a friend of mine, back when we attended the Officers Academy…”

Diana looked Dimitri in the eye. She caught the subtle, dark change in his tone. There was pain in his eyes that mirrored her own.

Yet somehow she doubted his grief was for Claude alone. There were others; she could tell. She wondered who they were – who else Edelgard had taken from this man in her conquest. Then again, this wasn’t the best time to ask.

“You understand, then,” she said softly. “You know what I’m after.”

“Yes,” Dimitri said. “All too well, unfortunately. Edelgard has slaughtered countless people in the name of her ambitions. And she will slaughter many more unless we stop her.”

Diana slung Failnaught on her back again.

“Your general here tells me that the emperor is headed to Fhirdiad,” she said. “How I see it, we have the perfect opportunity to stop her right now.”

“That’s why I came out here,” Dimitri said with a nod. “So we could coordinate our counterattack.”

He turned around, about to lead the way into town, but stopped mid-pivot. Something flying towards them from the west caught his attention.

“What now…?” he muttered.

It was one of the church’s pegasus knights. She flew in at an alarming speed, clearly pushing her pegasus as hard as she could. Dimitri and Diana leapt out of the way as the knight practically dove toward them. She landed with some difficulty, narrowly avoiding crashing into anyone in the group on the ground.

Out of pure reflex, Diana reached for Failnaught and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Her arrow was already nocked by the time she realized the newcomer was not a threat. The frightened pegasus knight, already shaken by the landing, threw her arms up in surrender. Diana relaxed and put the arrow away.

“What’s happened?” Dimitri asked.

The pegasus knight took a couple deep breaths before answering.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but we need reinforcements,” she said. “Lady Rhea has already engaged the Imperial army, but her forces alone aren’t -”

“Already?! It’s too early!” Dimitri said. “Damn it, we must have underestimated the speed of their advance…”

Diana looked pointedly at him.

“Looks like Edelgard came to us,” she said.

“So it seems.” Dimitri bit his lip. “Fine. There’s nothing else for it; we have to move out. Now.”

Sylvain and Diana nodded, needing no further direction. They returned to their respective forces and began mobilizing them immediately. Dimitri and Dedue headed back to the city gates, readying Dimitri’s own troops. Sylvain’s cavalry joined them shortly afterward.

Diana ran back to the docks, seeking out the same messenger she had sent before.

“Find King Kasirga and tell him the plan has changed,” she said. “There will be no rendezvous with the Kingdom army; just tell him to head straight to the Tailtean Plains and intercept the Imperial army as soon as he finds them. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

He saluted and then jumped right into the saddle. While he and his wyvern took to the air and headed south in search of Kasirga’s army, Diana and all the unit commanders set her half of the army in motion.

They joined with Dimitri, Sylvain, and the rest of the Kingdom forces at the city gates. From there, they marched west, toward the Tailtean Plains.

* * *

To his own surprise, Diana’s messenger spotted Kasirga’s wyvern corps not far south of the Fraldarius port. The king’s army turned out to be closer than expected, which the messenger supposed was fortunate, given the current circumstances. The only odd thing was that they seemed to be headed in the wrong direction.

However, as he flew further south and got a second look around, he noticed the wyvern corps was not headed in the wrong direction after all. The main force on the ground was marching northwest. The wyvern corps were flying southeast, in the direction of the main force. In all likelihood, the wyvern corps were returning from having scouted the area around the Tailtean Plains.

The area where the Imperial army was.

Still, he had his orders from the queen. He nudged his wyvern and made a beeline for the wyvern corps.

One of the wyvern riders in the flank alerted Nader to the messenger’s approach. Nader slowed his own wyvern, allowing the messenger to catch up.

“News from the queen’s army?” Nader asked.

“Yes, sir,” the messenger replied. “She’s already joined forces with King Dimitri, but she told me to tell King Kasirga that the plan has changed.”

“How so?”

“Apparently the Imperial forces have already engaged Dimitri’s allies on the Tailtean Plains,” the messenger said. “She said to have King Kasirga head directly to the Plains and engage the enemy there.”

Nader chuckled.

“Ah, is that all,” he said. “Well, that’s good, since we just spotted the Imperial army out there ourselves. Perfect timing.”

The messenger stared at Nader quietly, looking a little lost.

“Uh…” he said.

“Normally, I’d tell you to fly back, but that seems a little pointless now,” Nader said. “Actually, come with me. His Majesty is waiting for us down with the main force.”

There was nothing else he could do, so the messenger went ahead and followed Nader as he rejoined Kasirga’s forces on the ground. Nader and the messenger both then flew to the head of the column to relay the news to Kasirga.

“They are on the Tailtean Plains, then?” Kasirga said.

“Yes,” Nader said. “Diana said to head straight there. We can probably strike at the Imperial army’s flank while the Empire is busy with her and Dimitri’s armies.”

Kasirga tightened his grip on the reins.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

He flew above the marching column and issued the orders to redirect the army’s path. He and Nader informed the rest of the unit commanders, including Holst, of the new plan.

The army marched on its new path with renewed vigor. Morale was high as Kasirga, Nader, and Holst led their forces toward the Plains.

The only problem was the storm coming down from the north. Though the rain had let up for a little while, more black clouds loomed on the horizon. Still, the army marched on unafraid.

At last, they stepped out onto the Plains proper. Almyran scouts reported the enemy’s forces were spread out, already engaged in battle with what appeared to be several different armies. A few miles later, Kasirga, Nader, and Holst were able to see it for themselves.

As had been the strategy many times before, Kasirga detached the wyvern corps, making ready to harass the enemy with his famous hit-and-run tactics. Nader, meanwhile, flew through the rest of the army, issuing commands to the other units and getting the army into battle formation. Among the Goneril troops, Holst did the same thing.

He gripped Freikugel in both hands. The weapon began to glow red, illuminating its wielder like a beacon in the heavy rain.

“It’s time…” he said.


	12. Chapter 12

The church’s surprise attack had failed, but they at least managed to find the Imperial army. The flying troops flew back to their own lines, informing Lady Rhea of what happened.

The archbishop had abandoned her dress and regalia for battle armor. She stood at the front of her army, sword in hand, listening quietly as the flying corps gave their report.

“Good,” she said when they finished.

The wyvern rider that gave the report saluted and took off.

Now that she knew the enemy’s location, Rhea began issuing the orders for the church forces to move in and intercept them. All around her, the various units went into a flurry of motion. Unit commanders ordered their battalions forward.

Cyril and his company of wyvern riders took to the air along with a handful of pegasus companies. On the ground, Catherine made her way to the front of the vanguard, Thunderbrand already glowing an intense red in her grip.

As the army surged along, Catherine went and walked by Rhea’s side. Rhea glanced at her for only a fraction of a second to acknowledge her presence, then refocused on the plains ahead. She narrowed her eyes.

A long silence followed. While she waited on the Imperial army’s approach, Rhea lifted her head and stared far out over the plain. She looked to the southwest, in the direction that her soldiers had last seen the enemy. Minutes later, they appeared. In the distance, Adrestia’s crimson banners could be seen flapping in the wind.

Rhea readied her sword.

Two red lights glimmered next to each other near the head of the Imperial army. One of those lights, Rhea knew, was the Sword of the Creator. Still in the hands of that traitor.

“This way, dear child…” she muttered.

Catherine frowned, confused. Nevertheless, she readied her sword as well, awaiting Lady Rhea’s orders.

“Catherine,” Rhea said. “Take your soldiers and strike at the enemy’s right. I will strike the left. Do not let any of the enemy escape.”

“As you wish.”

With that, Rhea raised her sword and yelled, joining her soldiers in the charge. Catherine did the same, heading for the enemy’s right flank as Rhea had commanded.

Hubert moved the Imperial mages into position alongside the archers, but he was quick to return to the vanguard, joining Byleth and Edelgard. On either side of them, the rest of the Imperial army began to fan out, preparing to intercept the church forces. The Black Eagle Strike Force stayed mostly in the Imperial army’s center, while the supporting units covered their flanks.

Up ahead, the rest of the church forces appeared alongside their flying corps. The northern horizon rapidly swelled with soldiers, while the skies above darkened again.

The storm wasn’t over yet.

Thousands of battle cries carried across the plain. The church forces charged.

But the Imperial army was prepared for them. Imperial mages and archers launched a combined volley of arrows and magic. It came down as a deadly rain on the church soldiers’ heads, nearly breaking their charge. Those still standing in the first wave crashed upon the Imperial vanguard. They were joined half a minute later by a second wave of church battalions, and their flying corps providing support from above. Their combined efforts began to punch holes in the Imperial lines. 

“Don’t let them through!” Edelgard yelled.

She gripped Aymr with both hands, raising it over her head. Seeing a gap opening up in the line, she charged in, bringing her axe down on the head of the nearest church soldier. Some of the other enemy soldiers saw the emperor’s glowing weapon and balked. That hesitation quickly proved fatal, as Edelgard swung Aymr in a wide arc, bringing down the rest of them in a single stroke.

Byleth followed close behind her. They extended the Sword of the Creator into its whip form, using it to tear through multiple enemies at once. They and Edelgard singlehandedly began pushing the church forces back.

Emboldened by their leaders’ display, the Imperial troops rallied and surged forward. Hubert and his company of Imperial mages obliterated a squad of church soldiers threatening Byleth and Edelgard’s left flank. They kept pace with her as she advanced.

Across the Imperial vanguard, the rest of the Strike Force fought just as hard to push the enemy back. Petra cut through the lines with blinding speed, felling soldiers left and right. Caspar kept up, not through speed, but with overpowering swings of his battle axe that easily cut down half a dozen soldiers at a time. Ferdinand and his cavalry ran the enemy soldiers through with their lances. From behind the front lines, Bernadetta and Dorothea supported them with arrows and magic. Only Linhardt stayed out of the action, preferring to stay with the healers and tending to the wounded.

Soon after the battle began, the heavens opened again. The ground under the soldiers’ feet turned to mud. On the front lines, blood and water flew everywhere.

Terrified screams rang out from the Imperial army’s right flank. The red glow of a Heroes’ Relic materialized out of the church’s ranks, its wielder devastating the Imperial forces.

Byleth paused to take a quick glance in that direction. They immediately identified this new enemy as Catherine and her Thunderbrand, but before Byleth could act, more screams came from the left.

Rhea herself was leading the charge against the Imperial left flank. She and Catherine hammered relentlessly at each side of the Imperial army. Both sides buckled. It would only be a matter of seconds until they broke.

With no time to decide, Byleth simply ran for the side that was closest. Going full sprint, they then lashed the Sword of the Creator in the direction of Thunderbrand’s glow. The end of their blade wrapped around Thunderbrand’s tip.

“What the -” Catherine exclaimed.

Byleth yanked their sword back, hoping to pull the weapon out of Catherine’s hands. But she tightened her grip and pulled back herself. The Sword of the Creator uncurled from around her blade. While Byleth retracted it, Catherine adjusted her stance to face them.

Meanwhile, on the left flank, Hubert and Edelgard poured their efforts into pushing Rhea back. Hubert’s mages called down a massive firestorm on the ranks of the church soldiers. Rhea herself escaped the inferno, but nearly a hundred of her soldiers were not so fortunate. The roaring fire drowned out their dying screams, and by the time the rain quenched the flames, their bodies had already been reduced to ash.

After the fire died down, Edelgard lifted her gaze and scanned the battlefield. Rhea had vanished.

“Damn it, where did she go…” she muttered.

On the right flank, Byleth clashed swords with Catherine, but could do little more than distract her from the rest of the army. With her thus occupied, however, the two sides were more evenly matched. The Imperial troops began to rally and reinforce their lines.

Every time Catherine tried to get in a decisive strike, something always seemed to prevent her. Byleth’s uncanny ability to predict her movements aside, the ground itself was too treacherous to maneuver on. Her feet either got stuck in mud or slipped on wet grass. Her only saving grace was that the ground was proving equally dangerous to her opponent. It kept them at a stalemate.

The temporary advantage Catherine and her soldiers had gained faded fast. Out of the corner of her eye, she checked the skies for the church’s flying troops, hoping they would fly in to lend support. Unfortunately, they seemed to be occupied with the Imperial flying units.

From behind her, a volley of arrows flew overhead. The Imperial troops raised their shields. Even Byleth withdrew in the face of the volley. Catherine’s troops saw the opportunity and charged.

“Push through!” Catherine yelled.

They had another chance. They could regain the upper hand.

Catherine swept a handful of soldiers aside with her blade. As she fought her way through, she kept an eye out for the glow of Byleth’s sword. It reappeared two minutes later, flying toward her from somewhere to her right. She ducked under it, then charged.

To her frustration, a company of soldiers blocked her path. She swung her sword wide, hoping to sweep them all aside quickly enough to get a clear shot at Byleth.

Her attack was not as successful as she had hoped, but a thunderous battle cry from somewhere behind her lines signaled the arrival of some much-needed reinforcements. She stole a glance in that direction to see Sir Gilbert charging in with his small contingent of Kingdom troops.

“It’s about time you got here!” Catherine said.

“Apologies, Catherine, but we moved as fast as we could,” Gilbert said. He stopped an Imperial swordsman with the broad side of his axe, then with a couple of quick movements, sliced open the enemy’s chest. “As soon as I got word that Archbishop Rhea had engaged the Imperial army…”

Catherine felled a couple more soldiers with a single stroke.

“Heh. Don’t worry about it,” she said. She glanced at Gilbert’s troops. “I don’t suppose we can expect the rest of the Kingdom’s forces anytime soon?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Gilbert bashed in an enemy soldier’s head with his shield. “King Dimitri and the Almyran army are hours away at best.”

“Damn.”

Catherine kicked a soldier in the gut, sending him staggering backwards into his allies. She followed up with a series of swift strokes that left half a dozen of them dead on the ground seconds later. 

“I thought Rhea had sent a messenger requesting reinforcements from them,” she continued.

“And last we heard, they were still on the Fraldarius coast,” Gilbert said. “They’re too far away. We simply have to hold out until they arrive.”

“I see. So… take the defensive until then.”

“Right.”

Though she switched to defensive tactics, Catherine scanned the Imperial lines for Byleth and the Sword of the Creator. They were the biggest threat on the battlefield; she could ill afford to lose sight of them.

Yet they were nowhere to be seen.

Catherine swore.

Diana and Dimitri’s forces marched headlong into the storm over the Plains. A few miles in, they were already drenched. However, before they reached the Plains proper, they had a river to cross.

“Please tell me there’s a bridge nearby,” Diana said, giving Dimitri a sidelong glance.

“Don’t worry, there is,” Dimitri said, pointing ahead to the bend in the river half a mile south of them. “And once we’re across it, we should be able to find the church forces quickly.”

“Only if they’re that close to the river,” Diana said.

She looked skyward and called out to the commander of her wyvern forces. He flew lower, hovering alongside the queen while they talked.

“Take the wyvern riders and scout the area nearby the river,” Diana said. “If you find the enemy, do not engage them; report back to me at once.”

The commander nodded and flew back up to gather his troops as Diana commanded. They took off, flying directly west over the river. Meanwhile, Dimitri and the Kingdom troops led the way to the bridge.

They had to follow the riverbanks for almost a full mile. Once they found it, Diana scowled and bit her lip. That bridge too narrow; it would take hours to funnel the entire army across it. She stole a glance at the southwestern skies, only to see endless stretches of dark clouds and rain. Her scouts had yet to return.

She cursed under her breath in Almyran.

“Queen Diana!”

She turned to see King Dimitri approaching her. He looked as agitated as she felt.

“What is it?” Diana asked.

“We’ll need to send our armies across in sections,” Dimitri said. “If we send the cavalry across first, they can go ahead of the main force and rendezvous with the church’s forces…”

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing,” Diana said. She glanced up at the skies again. “Now, if we knew where they were and how they were faring…”

Dimitri shook his head. “I don’t know, that’s what concerns me,” he said. “They met the Imperial army much sooner than I expected, and they’re outnumbered… If we don’t hurry, we won’t have many allies left to support.”

“And if you panic, the rest of the army will fall apart,” Diana warned. “Just send General Gautier ahead of us. He can stall the Imperials until we get there.”

“…Right.”

Dimitri returned to his own forces. He called Sylvain over, relaying his conversation with Diana to him.

“On it, Your Majesty,” Sylvain said.

He took his knights and rode across the bridge at full gallop.

Byleth hung back after the church’s archers fired their volley, despite having ample opportunity to attack. Instead, they scanned up and down the Imperial line.

Something was wrong, somewhere. They could sense it.

They retreated to the ranks of the archers and mage corps. There, they located Bernadetta and Dorothea.

“Concentrate your fire on Catherine and her soldiers,” Byleth said. “She’s the biggest threat to this part of our forces. Petra and Ferdinand are also out there; they’re going to need your help.”

Bernadetta hurriedly nocked an arrow.

“Got it, Professor!” she said. She relayed the order to the rest of the archers, then took aim and fired.

Dorothea and the mages followed suit. A split second after the archers’ volley, the mages called down a series of magical lightning bolts, allowing the church army no time to recover. Byleth could also see Petra and Ferdinand sweeping up the enemies that Bernadetta and Dorothea had missed. Satisfied that this section was under control, Byleth moved to check on the rest of the army.

A quick glance in that direction told them Caspar was holding his own at the extreme end of the flank. Linhardt and his team of healers had their hands full tending to the wounded.

That left only the forces on the western flank. Last they remembered, Edelgard and Hubert had taken command there.

Byleth took off in that direction at full sprint.

They found Hubert first, whose mage corps had just conjured another massive firestorm. Charred bodies strewn over patches of scorched earth stretched across the plains ahead as evidence of their handiwork, yet it didn’t seem to be slowing the enemy down.

Hubert hurled his magical fire toward the enemy ranks, hitting a church soldier squarely in the chest. The soldier screamed in agony as her uniform and body ignited despite the rain. She dropped her sword and staggered backwards. Having finished casting the spell, Hubert then turned to face Byleth.

“Where’s Edelgard?” Byleth asked.

Before Hubert could answer, Edelgard appeared, having temporarily withdrawn from the front line. She and Aymr were soaked, not just in rain, but in blood.

Byleth had to restrain themselves from stopping time on the spot. On a second glance, they realized she was not wounded; that blood had to be someone else’s.

“There you are,” she said, sounding slightly short of breath.

“Edelgard? What happened?” Byleth asked.

“We have our hands full,” she said. “Rhea is hiding among the enemy forces somewhere. We need your help.”

Byleth nodded. They immediately joined Edelgard in running back toward the front lines.

They swung the Sword of the Creator’s whip-like blade, clearing a path, all the while wrestling with inner doubts and second guessing themselves.

From the look of things, everyone had the situation under control. There was no clear reason behind that sudden warning inside their head a few minutes before. They tried to shove the thought aside. Anxiety and paranoia had to be getting to them.

A scream, followed by a sharp, piercing pain in their right shoulder jerked them violently back into reality.

Byleth’s arm dropped, and they had to grip their sword in both hands to not drop it into the mud. The source of the pain, they realized, was an arrow, buried inches deep in their shoulder. Gritting their teeth against the pain, they looked up. They glanced wildly about the battlefield, looking for something far more important than their own wounded shoulder.

The rain was coming down in buckets. Combined with the chaos of the battle, Byleth could barely make anything out.

“Edelgard!” they yelled.

She cried out again, and Byleth registered a flash of Aymr’s red glow up ahead. Switching their sword to their left hand, they ran to find her.

Two seconds later, Edelgard stumbled back into view. She was clutching her chest with one hand, fiercely clinging to Aymr with the other. From up ahead, Byleth suddenly heard Rhea’s voice, and their heart dropped into their stomach.

Rhea came charging into view, sword in hand, and murder in her eyes. She leaped high into the air as she approached. Coming down, she kicked Edelgard in the throat.

Byleth made ready to swing their sword, only to find themselves stopped by another sudden shot of pain, this time just under their collarbone. They let out an agonized scream, dropping to their knees.

_This_ was what the warning had been about.

They dropped the Sword of the Creator. With no options left, they closed their eyes, and, turning all their focus inward, tapped into their divine power.

Raindrops halted in midair. Soldiers froze in the middle of their attacks. Time itself stopped.

Then, at Byleth’s command, it ran backward. The rain returned to the sky, and the soldiers moved in reverse. They saw Rhea. Saw the exact moment she had managed to catch Edelgard off guard. Byleth continued to wind time backward. They needed enough of a window to intervene.

At last, they found it. A perfect spot. They released their hold, and time began to flow again.

This time, they dodged the enemy arrow with ease. Then they charged headlong into the fray, looking for Rhea.

She was busy battling Edelgard. But then the Sword of the Creator swept in seemingly out of nowhere, hooking around Rhea’s sword, and throwing off her attack. She screamed in frustration and yanked her sword back, now glaring in Byleth’s direction.

_“You…”_ she snarled.

She let out a feral battle cry and charged at them instead. Edelgard readied Aymr and rushed in to help Byleth.

Diana’s scouts returned with a mix of good and bad news.

Rhea’s forces had in fact clashed with the Imperial army a few miles west of the Tailtean River. The Imperial army had been headed northeast rather than directly north in the direction of Fhirdiad like they had hoped. Based on the armies’ positions as the scouts reported them, Rhea had then moved the church forces to intercept the Imperial army before they could reach the river. That placed the battle close enough that Diana and Dimitri could reach them in under an hour if they hurried.

Unfortunately, while they were close, they were not close enough. According to the report, the Imperial army outnumbered the church forces at least two to one, and had rapidly gained the upper hand. The church had already suffered heavy losses.

Without immediate reinforcement, the church forces were likely to be defeated before the Kingdom and Almyran forces arrived.

“Sylvain’s cavalry have probably found them by now,” Dimitri said. “They should be able to hold out…”

Diana narrowed her eyes.

“But it sounds like the situation is more dire than we thought,” she said.

She eyed the ranks of her miniature flying corps. They had only just returned from their scouting mission, but she was already considering sending them back out. Her own fingers began to itch for battle, and she found herself reaching for Failnaught.

Dimitri gave her a quizzical look.

“Queen Diana?”

“I don’t like this,” she said. “Your cavalry is going to need support.”

She called to the captain of the flying corps again.

“Did you see the Kingdom cavalry on your way back?” she asked.

“We did,” the captain replied. “Why?”

“Follow them. They’re going to need your help.”

As soon as the captain took off with the flying corps, Diana turned to Dimitri again.

“We need to hurry up and get the rest of our forces across this damn bridge,” she said. “And we can’t afford to wait on each other either; the moment you’re across, get your forces moving.”

That did not stop progress across the bridge from being frustratingly slow. Diana and Dimitri both gripped their weapons tighter with each passing minute, trying to rein in a growing sense of desperation even though they had yet to set foot on the battlefield.

At long last, the final unit made its way across the bridge. The Almyran and Kingdom armies’ marching columns had been stretched out, with the head of the column already being two miles ahead.

And that much closer to the battlefield.

Diana quickened the army’s pace, but not enough to push them into a run. They couldn’t afford to arrive on the battlefield exhausted.

The arrival of Gilbert’s troops did precious little in the face of the overwhelming Imperial numbers. Try as they might, Catherine and the church army simply could not regain the upper hand. As the battle dragged on, they found themselves being pushed further and further back, their forces dwindling.

An arrow glanced off Catherine’s pauldron, and a second zipped by dangerously close to her face. She swept aside a pair of Imperial soldiers, simultaneously searching the Imperial ranks for the archers. A brilliant flash of blue and white caught her attention instead.

From deep behind the Imperial front lines, the mages unleashed a magic lightning storm. A flood of Thunder and Thoron spells fairly destroyed what remained of her and Gilbert’s force. Off to her right, she heard Gilbert himself cry out as one of the magical bolts electrocuted him in his armor. He dropped his axe and shield, body convulsing too violently to fight back. Eventually he collapsed face down in the grass.

After the last flash of lightning dissipated, too few of Catherine’s soldiers remained standing. At this rate, they would be wiped out long before their reinforcements arrived.

To the north, she heard shouting. She risked a glance behind her.

“Reinforcements…?”

The ground rumbled and shook under the weight of hundreds of hoofbeats. In the hands of the rider leading the charge, was a lance glowing red. The Lance of Ruin, to be exact.

Sylvain and the Kingdom cavalry had arrived. They charged headlong into the Imperial army, instantly breaking the enemy’s momentum. A volley of arrows poured out of the sky, wreaking havoc on the Imperial archers and mages. Catherine looked up to see a company of Almyran wyverns. After breathing a quick prayer of thanks to the goddess, she raised her sword and shouted in exhilaration.

But her relief did not last long. More Imperial soldiers were already coming. She charged at them with renewed vigor.

With visibility severely reduced by the rain, the first thing Diana and Dimitri saw was not the church’s army or its banners – it was the fires. Bright, flickering orange lights scattered across the Plains.

“Fire mages,” Dimitri said. “But from this distance, it’s impossible to tell which side…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Diana said. She looked to the skies again, searching for her flying corps.

“The battle looks to be spread over a wide area,” Dimitri went on. “What do you say we split our forces, and each of us reinforce one half of the field?”

“Hmmm…” Diana continued scanning until, finally, she found them. “Fine. You take the right. I’ll take the left.”

She did not wait for Dimitri to acknowledge, but immediately began shouting orders and sprinting ahead. Dimitri turned to his own troops and did the same. Diana had left him little choice in the matter, so he went ahead and directed his army towards the church’s right flank.

He lifted Areadbhar overhead, pointing it toward their target.

_“Charge!” _

Lowering Areadbhar, Dimitri then led in the charge. The Kingdom soldiers let out a thunderous battle cry of their own, following the king in full sprint toward the battlefield.

The church soldiers, though battered by the Imperial assault, erupted in cheers at the Kingdom army’s arrival. They cleared a path, allowing Dimitri a clear shot at the Imperial army. He crashed upon it with his full might, breaking through instantly.

A single swing of Areadbhar brought down half a dozen Imperial soldiers. Their comrades scrambled backwards to try to escape its reach. Many of them tried in vain; the ones Dimitri missed fell to Dedue’s axe instead. Others fell to Ashe’s arrows, or Annette and Mercedes’ spells. Under the Kingdom army’s onslaught, the Imperial line crumbled. It nearly broke.

Until a blinding flash of light from behind the Imperial lines interrupted them.

It was difficult to make out in the darkness and the rain, but something – several somethings – were approaching the front line. And, whatever they were, they were huge. At least the size of a Demonic Beast, if not bigger.

And that flash of light turned out to be a blade of deadly energy. It soared over the heads of the Imperial soldiers, coming down and tearing through the Kingdom army’s ranks. That single blast killed nearly a dozen soldiers.

Dimitri paused, looking up at this imposing new enemy.

“What in the goddess’ name…” he muttered.

“Ah, if it isn’t King Dimitri himself!”

Dimitri’s blood suddenly ran cold. He knew that voice.

_“Cornelia!”_

Sure enough, Cornelia and her mages emerged in front of one of the giant constructs. She looked downright tiny in comparison, but her voice still drew Dimitri’s glaring eyes in that direction.

“I knew you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to kill your darling stepsister,” Cornelia said. She pointed to her right, at the middle of the battlefield. “But, Edelgard is over there. You should-”

“Silence, _traitor,” _Dimitri said, pointing Areadbhar at her. “I will hang both yours and Edelgard’s heads from the gates of Enbarr for what you’ve done.”

“Hmph. Good luck with that, boy.”

Cornelia gestured, and her monstrous constructs went into motion. They raised their giant swords, which began to glow with the same energy as the deadly blast from earlier. Dimitri pulled his lance back.

“Spread out!” he shouted to his troops. “And be careful of those energy beams!”

Dimitri himself leapt to the side to avoid one of the energy beams. Quickly picking himself back up, he waved Dedue after him. Together, they ran toward the enemy construct, weapons raised.

Meanwhile, Cornelia and her mages slipped behind the Imperial lines, out of reach.

Kasirga had left Nader in command of the main force. While Nader guided the ground troops up on the Imperial army’s flank, Kasirga and his wyvern corps flew out to the northeast, swinging wide around the battlefield. A couple miles out, they found the banks of the Tailtean River. They followed it northward for a short distance.

To the west of the riverbank, various lights flashed on both sides of the battlefield. Most were likely the effects of mages casting their spells. Although, among the ranks of the allied forces, Kasirga could make out a couple glowing red lights, akin to the glow he had seen on Failnaught, back in Derdriu. He wondered if one of them was Failnaught itself.

“Over there!” he shouted, pointing toward the center of the action, near the cluster of red lights.

Nader and Holst had the Imperial flank handled. This section, however, looked to be more fiercely contested. Though the allied force was clearly on the verge of collapse, Kasirga could see a stream of reinforcements pouring in from the north. The combined forces being led by Diana and Dimitri, no doubt.

He nocked an arrow and flew in. The rest of the corps followed him.

This was going to be difficult, given the rain, which had only intensified since the Almyran army’s arrival. However, Kasirga also knew the rain would make it just as difficult for the enemy to counterattack.

The instant he flew close enough, he fired. A fraction of a second later, the entire wyvern corps loosed their own arrows. As the screams rang out among the Imperial troops, Kasirga pulled out of range. He looped around, flying back in, another arrow already nocked.

On the ground, panic reigned in the Imperial ranks. Kasirga’s volley had come down mere minutes after the Imperial archers had already been blindsided by a volley from Diana’s wyvern company. Under heavy fire from two directions, the Imperial units panicked and scattered.

As Kasirga approached for the second volley, he watched the allied forces out of his peripheral vision. Despite the aid of both his and Diana’s wyvern riders, they were in dire straits. And apart from the wyvern company from Diana’s forces, the rest of her army had yet to appear. However, if the movement to the north was any indication, they were at least getting close.

He and the wyvern corps flew over the Imperial army again. A handful of the enemy archers stood their ground, preparing their own volley of counterfire.

Kasirga took half a second to scan the field below, looking for the enemy commander. In the center, a girl with purple hair desperately tried to rally the other archers. She pointed up at Kasirga’s troops, giving the command to aim before taking aim herself.

Kasirga aimed back at her.

“Fire!”

It took all of her willpower for Bernadetta not to flee in the face of yet another volley as it wreaked havoc on her archer battalion. She bit her tongue, forbidding herself to scream either.

It was tempting, especially given how quickly the tides had turned on them. Just an hour ago, victory had seemed to be within their grasp. Then the Kingdom cavalry showed up. Ferdinand had taken the Imperial cavalry out to handle them, and for a few minutes, things still appeared to be fine. But it was one thing after another.

Not long after the Kingdom cavalry had appeared, the Imperial army’s worst fear was gradually realized. For Almyran wyverns had appeared in the northern skies as well. It was a small force – a few companies at most – so Bernadetta and her archers trained their bows on them, hoping to repel them and maintain the upper hand.

Now, not only had they failed that, but even more Almyran wyverns appeared, this time from the south, and in much larger numbers. An entire corps, easily a thousand strong, had just flown in and crippled the ranks of the Imperial archers. And they were already flying back for their second volley.

“Everyone! Stay together! Hold your ground and prepare to fire!” Bernadetta said. She reached for her quiver, hand trembling so violently that she had difficulty grabbing the arrow.

She looked up at the approaching wyvern corps, and what she saw made her heart plummet. Even through the rain, there was no mistaking that white wyvern at the head of the enemy formation.

She had heard the stories many times. Rumors that the Almyran king himself flew astride that white wyvern. Now she finally saw him in person. And he was coming straight for her.

Hand still trembling, Bernadetta pointed at up at the Almyran wyvern corps. She nocked her arrow, swallowing hard.

“Aim…”

“Fire!”

The Almyran king and his wyvern corps were a split second faster. Immediately upon firing his arrow, the king pulled his wyvern into a tight turn, swerving out of the path of any incoming Imperial fire. Meanwhile, his arrow flew onward, hitting its target right as she released her arrow.

Bernadetta screamed and fell to her knees. Her bow landed somewhere in the mud a couple feet away. She reached up and grasped the arrow protruding from her chest, knowing full well it was too late.

“Bernie!”

Dorothea broke away from her own unit and ran to Bernadetta’s side. She held her up by the shoulders, tilting her head up so she could look her in the eye.

“Come on, Bern,” Dorothea said, lowering one hand and conjuring a healing spell instead. “Just hold on, OK? I’ll get Linhardt over here in a second…”

Bernadetta’s body shook as she choked on blood.

“I… can’t…” she gasped. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t do more…”

Her head dropped, and her body went limp. Dorothea’s healing spell dissipated, having no effect. She bit her lip, blinking back tears.

She lost track of time as she sat there, staring in silence at Bernadetta’s body. Eventually, Dorothea resigned herself and gently lay Bernadetta down on the grass. She reluctantly rose to her feet, ignoring the mud now staining her dress.

The Almyran wyvern riders had long since flown out of sight. Everyone knew they would be back, but for now the army had enough problems to deal with.

On the northern front, Ferdinand ran through another Kingdom soldier on his lance. Pulling his lance back, he immediately searched for his next target. Sylvain was out in the enemy force somewhere, and with House Gautier’s Relic in his hands, he was sure to be as much of a threat as Catherine. They needed to dispatch him swiftly.

The Relic’s distinctive red glow made him easy enough to locate. The problem was getting to him.

And the sudden arrival of Almyran reinforcements had just made that problem significantly more difficult.

An adjutant to one of the commanders on the army’s extreme eastern flank ran up, bearing the news. Everyone had already seen the Almyran wyvern corps. Now the ground force had appeared, threatening them from the south. Ferdinand withdrew from the front line momentarily. With Byleth and Edelgard both occupied with the enemy on the west flank, command of this area fell to him.

He called Caspar and Petra over.

“The main force of the Almyran army has arrived, and is threatening our flank,” he said. “Head down there and help defend it.”

Caspar’s expression hardened in determination.

“You got it,” he said. He took off immediately.

Petra cast a worried glance to the north. More enemies poured in, and these were clearly not more of Sylvain’s cavalry. Those were not Kingdom banners, nor did the soldiers wear Kingdom-style armor.

“But what about those enemies to our north?” she asked, pointing. “Can you be defeating them by yourself?”

“Do not worry about me,” Ferdinand said. “That force appears to be smaller. And do not forget that Edelgard and the professor are out there as well. We can handle this.”

“Very well. If you are having certainty…”

Petra turned around and followed Caspar. Ferdinand readied his lance and prepared to charge back into the fray.

First, he registered the glow of a Heroes’ Relic. Then he saw a glowing red arrow flying in his direction. He ducked mere milliseconds before the arrow would have pierced his neck.

_“What?”_

He stared, eyes wide with shock, not quite believing what he saw.

Failnaught was the only bow among the Heroes’ Relics. But they had already fought, and defeated, its wielder, back at Derdriu.

House Riegan had fallen. There shouldn’t have been anyone left who could wield that bow. Yet there it was, in the hands of the Almyran commander.

The _Almyran_ commander.

“Impossible…” Ferdinand muttered.


	13. Chapter 13

While Kasirga and the wyvern corps quickly disappeared into the rain, Nader and the Almyran army struck the Imperial flank. Holst and his Goneril troops followed close behind the Almyran vanguard, providing a second wave of attack that shattered the Imperial line. Within minutes of joining the battle, they started pushing the enemy back.

Nader swept enemy soldiers aside from the back of his wyvern. Holst charged through the mud on foot, clearing a path with Freikugel. He made wide sweeps, alternating between left and right. His soldiers then charged through the gap.

Some Imperial soldiers lost their nerve merely at the sight of Holst’s Relic. One of the commanders started screaming for support from the archers while simultaneously struggling to keep his own soldiers in formation. The Imperial archers responded to the cry for help with a scattered volley. It did little to slow the Almyran army down, but as Holst recovered Freikugel after another swing, he caught a glimpse behind the enemy lines.

While most of the Imperial archers had directed their fire at the ground troops, a few of them were aiming up. As far as Holst could tell, only Nader and a small handful of wyvern troops remained in this part of the field. Kasirga and the rest of the wyvern corps were nowhere in sight.

Holst kicked an Imperial soldier out of his way, setting his sight on those archers. Out of the corner of his eye, he located Nader flying overhead.

“Nader!” Holst yelled.

Nader looked down, easily locating Holst by the glow of his weapon. Holst pointed ahead to the archers.

“Yeah, I see them!” Nader yelled back.

Nader swerved and flew back behind the Almyran vanguard. Putting his axe away, he switched to his bow.

Meanwhile, Holst found himself swarmed with enemies. They had overcome their initial fright at his Relic, and now made him their primary target.

Not that this deterred him in the slightest. He gripped Freikugel in both hands, and the axe head’s glow intensified as Holst channeled the power of his Crest. Right as the nearest enemies prepared to strike, Holst threw his whole body into an overpowering full-circle swing. In a matter of seconds, he felled every foe within a ten foot radius.

Having cleared his path once more, Holst resumed his charge toward the Imperial archers. Just as he cleared the line and raised his axe, an arrow came down out of the sky, piercing one of the enemy archers in the chest. Holst managed to bring Freikugel down on another archer, but the rest fled out of reach.

One of them hurriedly nocked an arrow and aimed it at Holst. While Holst shielded himself, a group of Goneril soldiers charged ahead, cutting down the archer before he could fire. A company of Almyran soldiers joined them, eliminating the rest.

Holst paused to catch his breath. He glanced from side to side, surveying the army’s progress.

“Regroup!” he called to his troops.

The Goneril soldiers hastened to get back into formation. Holst ran to the head of the formation. Keeping pace with the Almyran units on either side of them, they continued to push forward.

In the face of the Almyran advance, the Imperial army tried to push back. A wave of Imperial soldiers coming from further up the line came to reinforce the flank. Holst readied Freikugel again, scanning the enemy units for the commander.

Two units were approaching. One of them tackled the Almyran vanguard head-on, but the other marched in the direction of Holst and his Goneril troops. The Imperial commander leading them carried a battle axe of his own. And his light blue hair looked familiar.

“Another Bergliez?” Holst muttered to himself.

The Imperial commander pointed at Holst and yelled the command to charge.

Dimitri and Dedue ran up to the first Titanus’ right hand side, while a squad of Kingdom soldiers flanked it from the left. It raised its giant sword, which began glowing with deadly energy. It drew its sword arm back, preparing to unleash another energy beam.

Apparently perceiving the larger group to be the bigger threat, it aimed in the direction of the Kingdom soldiers. While it was thus distracted, Dimitri and Dedue rammed their strongest attacks into its side. Their attacks threw the Titanus off balance, sending its attack flying off into the distance, way off target.

Dimitri yanked Areadbhar out of the Titanus’ leg and followed up with a slashing motion across the ankle, hoping to sever the foot from the body. Dedue withdrew his axe, waiting for Dimitri to finish his attack. The Titanus staggered backward, turning its head. It changed targets.

Before it could ready another attack, however, the Kingdom soldiers came up on the Titanus’ opposite side. They hacked and slashed relentlessly at its metal body, pushing it further back.

The Titanus wobbled dangerously, unable to walk properly after the damage Dimitri and Dedue did to its feet. It crashed to the ground, shaking the earth with the impact. The Kingdom soldiers froze, stunned for a second. Dimitri took the opportunity to jump up onto the construct’s chest and ram Areadbhar through its face. After waiting to see that it was truly dead, Dimitri jumped back down.

“Come on.” He waved Dedue and the others after him. “We need to find Cornelia.”

He scanned the plains ahead. The rest of his army had engaged with the remaining Titanus. As the battle carried on, Dimitri’s army spread out, trying to minimize casualties from the enemy constructs’ deadly energy attacks. The line spread so thin, in fact, that Dimitri could now easily slip through.

Cornelia’s plan to use those giant dolls as shields had failed her. She and her mages stood alone on the field, making them easy targets. But instead of fleeing, they readied their spells.

And as soon as Dimitri and the others began to charge in their direction, they unleashed a barrage of fire and lightning upon them.

Screams of dying soldiers briefly overwhelmed Dimitri’s senses. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to close his ears to the sound. He focused his gaze on Cornelia to the point of tunnel vision, refusing to look at the carnage either. Though Cornelia’s magic nearly broke the Kingdom army’s charge, Dimitri ran ahead undeterred.

Seeing that Dimitri was not only still standing, but charging straight at her, Cornelia’s eyes went wide with panic. She hastily prepared another spell. As the sigil materialized in her hand, Dimitri quickened his pace.

He raised Areadbhar high, preparing to strike.

“_Cornelia!”_ he yelled.

From a few paces behind his liege, Dedue looked up in alarm. Though Cornelia was within Dimitri’s reach, the two seconds he had taken to sprint across the field gave her enough time to ready her spell.

“Your Majesty!” Dedue cried. “Get out of the way!”

He pushed himself to run faster, to get close enough to intervene. It was no use.

Dimitri thrust Areadbhar’s blade forward, impaling Cornelia through the center of her chest. But a split second before that, she cast her final spell. The purple rays of powerful dark magic struck Dimitri full force, at point blank range. It tore through his armor like it was little more than wet paper, releasing a fountain of blood. He cried out, his scream mingling with Cornelia’s. Despite the agonizing pain, he clung to Areadbhar, plunging it further into Cornelia’s chest.

“Heh…” Cornelia looked Dimitri in the eye for a second. “Look at you… even though you’ve won… you won’t live to enjoy it…”

Dimitri yanked Areadbhar out of Cornelia’s chest. The force behind the motion threw off his balance, making him stumble dangerously on his feet. Planting his lance in the ground to steady himself, he watched as Cornelia sank to her knees.

She opened her mouth again as if to taunt him further, but dissolved into a coughing fit instead. The fit did not last long, as she soon collapsed face down in the mud. Seconds later, her shaking and shallow gasping stopped.

She was dead.

Meanwhile, Dimitri was finding it harder to stay upright. His head swam, his strength was rapidly failing him, and, like Cornelia, he had been reduced to taking shallow gasps for air while trying not to choke on blood.

He dropped Areadbhar. He would have fallen next to it had Dedue not tossed his axe aside and caught him.

“Your Majesty!” Dedue said again. “Can you hear me?!”

Dimitri coughed several times.

“Dedue…” he said weakly.

Dedue attempted to hoist Dimitri onto his feet. Dimitri leaned heavily against him, his legs having lost the strength to support him on their own.

“Hold on, Your Majesty… we need to get you back to the healers…”

Her wyvern riders were difficult to track through the downpour. But seeing the Kingdom cavalry in roughly the same area, however, Diana knew where to go. She made her way to the battlefield at full sprint while her army followed alongside her.

She pulled an arrow from her quiver, nocking it to Failnaught without breaking stride. The arrow began to glow the same intense red as the bow. A second later, she fired.

To her annoyance, the Imperial cavalryman she had aimed at narrowly dodged the shot. He stared back at her, slack-jawed in shock.

“Impossible…” he said.

Diana pulled another arrow from her quiver. She narrowed her eyes in a glare as she took aim again.

“Don’t act like you’re surprised,” she snarled, pulling Failnaught to full draw. “Did you really think that killing my son would have no consequences?”

Ferdinand backed his horse a few paces. Even from this distance, Diana could see the wheels turning in his head. The shock and disbelief in his eyes gradually gave way to fear.

“What?” he gasped. “Lady Riegan…?”

“No. _Queen of Almyra.”_

She fired. And this time, her opponent failed to move fast enough.

Though he frantically spurred his horse to action, and tried to dodge the shot, Diana’s arrow still hit its mark. It struck him under his right arm, causing him to scream in pain and drop his lance. Meanwhile, his horse had already started to run, unaware that its rider had lost his grip on the reins. Unable to keep his balance, he fell backward out of the saddle the moment his horse turned and fled behind the Imperial lines. He landed flat on his back in the mud.

But the shot did not kill him instantly. Rather, he lay on his back, blinking rain and tears out of his eyes while pain wracked his body. He watched as Diana walked past him, another arrow already in hand. For one tiny fraction of a second, her forest green eyes darted downward in his direction. Though her eyes blazed with fury, she left him alone. She kept going.

By this time, Diana’s entire force had reached the front line. They struck fast and hard, immediately pushing the enemy back.

Shouts of triumph rang out from her beleaguered church allies – of which there were too few left, Diana noticed. She nocked another arrow. With a shake of her head, she shoved the thought out of her mind. Victory was still within reach. And Kasirga would arrive any minute.

After Diana fired her shot, she caught a glimpse of the glow of another Relic somewhere off to the side. Its wielder withdrew from the church force’s front line, walking with unsteady gait in Diana’s direction. Diana lowered Failnaught, eyeing the church commander with curiosity.

Catherine limped over to Diana’s side, Thunderbrand dangling in her grip. Between the mud and blood staining her clothes and armor, its original color was impossible to see.

“You’re the Almyran commander, yes?” Catherine said. She swayed side to side, clutching a wound in her side with her free hand. “Thank the goddess you made it… in time…”

Diana eyed Catherine’s wound.

“Where’s your medical corps?” she asked. “You need to get that treated before -”

A pair of Imperial soldiers slipped through a gap in Diana’s forces and charged them. Catherine instantly stood up straight, felling one soldier with a swing of her sword. Diana smacked the other over the head with Failnaught, then drew her shamshir with her other hand, slitting the soldier’s throat.

“Don’t worry about me,” Catherine said. “But my troops need reinforcement all across this line…”

She pointed out at the area in question. Diana followed her direction, taking in the severity of the situation. She sheathed her shamshir, then called out to one of her generals. Pointing to the area Catherine had indicated, she gave him her orders. He then immediately redirected his soldiers.

Just then, Diana’s wyvern company reappeared. They flew back toward her forces, the commander waving to get her attention.

“Now what?” she wondered aloud.

Now that he had her attention, the wyvern commander began gesturing wildly toward the eastern skies. Diana looked.

More Almyran wyverns. An entire corps of them.

Kasirga had finally arrived.

“Good,” Diana said. She looked back at the wyvern commander, pointing eastward herself.

“Keep up the supporting fire!” she ordered. Drawing another arrow from her quiver, she finally returned her focus to the front lines. “Our forces will meet up shortly…”

She nocked the arrow and quickly scanned the enemy lines for a target. It seemed the Imperial archers were all but wiped out, but a handful of mage companies stubbornly held their ground. They were providing supporting fire to the Imperial cavalry, who were locked in battle with Sylvain’s troops. Diana decided to target the mages. She aimed at the woman standing at the front of their formation.

The woman’s hands glowed with the light of another spell. She turned in Diana’s direction right as the Almyran queen loosed her arrow.

All the Imperial mage saw was a flash of bright red flying toward her. By the time she realized what it was, the arrow had already pierced her heart. She let out a strangled cry and fell.

One of the other mages – a green-haired young man in bishop’s robes – ran to her side.

He tried once to heal her wound, only for the spell to dissipate upon contact. After a moment’s shock, he sat back in the mud, arms hanging limply at his side. He hung his head, paying no attention to the battle around him.

Not even when the rest of his allies suddenly turned and fled at the sight of Kasirga’s wyvern corps flying in for their third volley.

Seconds later, their arrows rained down on the Imperial army. Watching the enemy line break and dissolve into chaos, Kasirga raised his bow high, shouting in triumph as he led his troops northward after the volley. He flew low, eventually landing by Diana’s side.

“There you are,” Kasirga said. “How are we faring?”

Diana gestured at the fleeing Imperial forces.

“I’d say we have a firm control of this part of the field,” she said. Then, pointing north, she added, “But I think the north and west flanks might be another story. King Dimitri’s forces are up there, but they could probably use our help.”

“Is that where the emperor is?”

“Most likely – I haven’t seen her anywhere on this side of the battlefield.”

“Right.” Kasirga sat up straight in the saddle, then patted the open spot behind him. “Come on. We have to find her.”

Diana nodded, and hopped up onto the wyvern’s back. Once he was sure Diana was firmly seated, Kasirga urged his wyvern to take to the air again. He flew west over the battlefield. Both he and Diana scanned the ground below as they went, searching for any sign of the emperor.

It was a brief search. In the middle of the western flank, they spotted the red glow of two more Relic weapons. One was an axe, wielded by a white-haired woman clad in red and wearing a horned crown. The other Relic – a sword – belonged to a green-haired person in dark gray.

“There!” Kasirga pointed down at the woman with the axe. “That must be her! She is exactly as Nader described…”

“Finally…” Diana muttered.

Kasirga flew a short distance beyond Edelgard’s position, then turned the wyvern around and flew lower. As he turned, Diana readied Failnaught. She aimed at Edelgard.

She fired.

In the heat of battle, Byleth had no way of seeing which parts of the battlefield were falling out of control. Nevertheless, as the battle dragged on into the afternoon, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of growing dread. That the tides were indeed shifting against them.

Just when they thought they had the church forces beaten, reinforcements arrived from the north. And it was more than just Dimitri’s Kingdom army.

The Almyrans had finally caught up to them.

They were running out of time.

All those thoughts swirling together distracted them for half a second. Rhea took the opportunity to run straight at them, blade raised, and screaming a savage war cry. Had she been even a little bit faster, she would have caught Byleth off guard and regained the upper hand. But Byleth snapped back to reality just in time to block her blade with the Sword of the Creator.

Byleth pushed Rhea back, and Edelgard jumped in to help. She swung Aymr at Rhea’s head, forcing her to duck and back away. Before Rhea fully recovered, Byleth followed up with a swipe at her side. While their blade did not quite hit its intended mark, they nicked Rhea’s upper arm. A small trickle of blood ran down.

Rhea hissed at the pain, but kept her eyes on Byleth.

Or, more accurately, on the Sword of the Creator.

_“Give it back,”_ she growled.

Byleth took a step back, assuming a defensive stance. They said nothing.

Rhea belted out a savage battle cry and charged again.

To Byleth’s dismay, Rhea’s anger failed to cloud her vision or make her movements sloppy. If anything, she grew more focused, driving her attacks harder and with more precision. More than once, Edelgard had to intervene as Rhea came too close to finding an opening.

Forced to take a defensive approach, Byleth concentrated on putting distance between themselves and Rhea. They leaped backwards while Edelgard blocked Rhea’s path. Rhea shoved Edelgard out of the way. But by the time her path had cleared, Byleth lashed the Sword’s whip form at her.

Rhea put her sword in front of her, making the Sword of the Creator wrap itself around it. She pulled back with surprising strength, making Byleth stumble forward. They kept their grip on the blade, but lost their balance.

“Byleth!”

Edelgard attempted to rush back in. Byleth looked up in time to see Rhea jump up into the air, already swinging her leg in a powerful kick aimed at Byleth’s jaw.

“No!”

Everything froze again. Edelgard halted in mid-swing. Rhea halted in mid-air.

Byleth knew where their mistake was. All they had to do was wind back time and devise a different plan of attack.

“Nngh!”

Though they had not gone back too far, that short amount of time seemed to require a disproportionate amount of energy. More energy than they had ever used for a single Pulse. Byleth had always been aware on some level that using Divine Pulse drained their energy, but they also had not Pulsed this many times in a single battle before. For the first time, the divine energy drain was truly starting to take its toll.

Byleth wound back to the point in time they needed, but did not yet release their hold. They took a deep breath.

Sothis’ words rang in their ears again.

Their power was not infinite. They had to end this before it ran out.

Time began flowing again, and Byleth put their new plan into action. Instead of extending their sword and swinging at Rhea from a distance, they closed the distance to her while Edelgard approached from the left. As they closed in, they attacked together.

Rhea could not block both attacks at once. Though she jumped out of the way of Edelgard’s axe swing, she just as quickly had to raise her sword to block Byleth’s strike. Sweeping her sword aside, Byleth swung again. And again. They and Edelgard pressed as hard as they could, forcing Rhea to run and take the defensive.

Eventually, they broke through.

Edelgard swung Aymr, and while Rhea blocked her handily, Byleth swung the Sword of the Creator while Rhea’s blade was still locked with Aymr. They tore a gash over Rhea’s left shoulder, causing her to shriek in pain.

It was loud and shrill, not unlike the cry of a frenzied wyvern. But while the awful noise made Byleth flinch and step back, they clung to their blade.

Still screaming, Rhea pulled her blade back and began kicking and flailing about. Edelgard moved out of the way, escaping with just a small scratch across her gauntlet. She backed away in the opposite direction from Byleth. Now they had Rhea flanked.

Rhea set her gaze on Byleth and charged again. Byleth blocked her attack. Before they could follow up, Rhea spun to the side, having heard Edelgard trying to run up behind her.

She sidestepped Edelgard’s strike. But in doing so, stepped right into the path of Byleth’s blade.

A second, bloodcurdling scream rent the air. Byleth had plunged the Sword into Rhea’s chest.

Rhea dropped her sword. She reached out and clawed at Byleth’s chest with her bare hands.

But she did nothing more than tear their shirt fabric. Byleth pulled their sword back, out of Rhea’s chest, sending a spray of blood everywhere. Most of it pooled on the ground at their feet, but some of it clung to Byleth’s blade and armor. Rhea struggled in vain to stay on her feet. After several seconds of feebly trying to strike at Byleth one last time, she collapsed in the mud.

A few more seconds passed. Edelgard stared in stunned silence at Rhea’s body.

“Is it over?”

The instant the words left her mouth, Edelgard’s own scream pierced the air. Byleth spun around, looking on in horror.

She had been shot with an arrow. But not any ordinary arrow; this one glowed red.

“That’s not possible…”

Byleth let out a tortured cry of their own. Using Divine Pulse again was sure to be agony, but they had no choice.

Time stopped again. Everything halted in place. The soldiers. The rain.

The white wyvern flying overhead.

While Byleth had time stopped, they did not begin to wind backward immediately. Rather, they paused, taking a closer look at the two people riding that wyvern.

An Almyran man held the reins, and it was the Fódlan woman behind him that held Failnaught. That had to be Lady Riegan. The stories were true.

Byleth turned their eyes on the man, and their heart plummeted into their stomach.

_“Claude?!”_

Caspar charged straight at Holst. He put an impressive amount of power into the swing of his battle axe, nearly matching the strength Holst had seen from the boy’s father, back at Derdriu.

And Holst blocked the swing just as easily. Sparks flew from Freikugel’s edge as it collided with the younger Bergliez’s axe. Holst looked him in the eye.

“You! You’re – you’re Lord Holst, aren’t you?” Caspar said. His voice was shaking.

Holst forced Caspar’s battle axe aside, but Caspar managed to raise his axe again in time to block Holst’s follow up attack.

“Yes.” Holst pressed the attack, swinging his axe relentlessly. “Why does that matter to you?”

Caspar blocked another swing, barely in the nick of time. For half a second, he and Holst locked gazes. It was not long, and Caspar quickly ducked out of Holst’s reach, readying himself for the next attack.

But it was long enough for Holst to catch the abject terror in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s not really that important.” Caspar narrowed his eyes into a glare, trying to hide the fear. “I’d just heard stories about you fighting with the Almyran army.”

Holst let out an exasperated sigh. Gripping Freikugel with both hands, he swung so hard that even when Caspar attempted to block, he was sent careening backward several feet.

“And I suppose like everyone else, you’re just mystified as to _why?” _Holst said. He sprinted toward Caspar, raising Freikugel again. “So, when Hilda fought side by side with Almyrans at Derdriu, it never occurred to anyone that her brother might do the same thing?”

Caspar froze. His glare vanished, and his eyes widened in terror once more.

“I…”

“Your own father asked me that same damn question,” Holst went on. “As if he didn’t understand why an Alliance general would side with an army that had defended us at Derdriu. Or why I would side against the Empire after they had killed my sister!”

Caspar dodged another swing of Holst’s axe.

“You…” he growled. “It was you! _You_ killed my father at Derdriu!”

“And you killed my sister.” Holst spat. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen this axe before.”

Caspar did not deny it. He stared, eyes fixed on Freikugel.

“Hmph.” Holst tightened his grip on it. “You killed one wielder of Freikugel. Now it will be the last thing you see.”

Holst swung again, and Caspar narrowly dodged. Both men fought with newly steeled resolve, but just like at Derdriu, Holst’s patience won out.

Since the start of the fight, Caspar had been fighting a losing battle. He lacked his father’s strength and experience. Sensing this, Holst hammered relentlessly at Caspar’s defenses until, finally, he found his opening.

Freikugel’s edge cleaved through Caspar’s armor, sinking deep into the flesh underneath. Caspar screamed and dropped his axe. His blood poured out and coated the head of Holst’s weapon, dimming its glow.

Biting down on his tongue to stop his screams, Caspar reached for Freikugel’s handle. Holst jerked his arms backwards, yanking the axe out of Caspar’s side before he could get a grip on it. The sudden motion threw Caspar off balance. He dropped to his hands and knees. But Holst was not done. When Caspar reached for his axe, trying to rise back to his feet, Holst kicked him in the gut, knocking him flat on his back. He stood over him, holding Freikugel overhead.

“Father…” Caspar choked.

Holst brought the axe down. More blood splattered across him and his weapon.

He held still for a moment. The rain began to wash Caspar’s blood off Holst’s axe. Holst held the weapon at his side, letting the blood and water drip into the grass. As his soldiers charged ahead, he lingered. He took a final look at Caspar’s body before rejoining his forces.

It was a strange feeling. But even if he had been right, and Hilda’s killer had finally been dealt with, the battle was not over yet. Holst picked up Freikugel and followed his troops.

Glancing upward, he searched the skies for Nader.

He caught a glimpse of him in rapid descent toward an enemy unit, axe raised. The enemy commander – a brown-skinned woman whose strange attire made her stand out among the Imperial soldiers – ran towards Nader with her sword raised, even while some of the soldiers around her fled. She leaped into the air, yelling a war cry. Nader’s wyvern dove toward her, and for a second, vanished from view.

When it came back up, the woman had jumped onto the saddle. Her blade was firmly lodged in Nader’s left shoulder. Nader had likewise buried his axe in her shoulder. Now the two fought to retrieve their weapons and throw the other off the wyvern’s back.

She kicked Nader in the side, but Nader had his feet securely in the stirrups, and thus barely budged. He yelled something to his wyvern, and it went into a tight snap roll. The maneuver threw the woman off balance and made her lose her grip on her sword. She fell off the wyvern, disappearing into the chaotic battle below. Holst heard the thud as she hit the ground, and halted.

Nader let his wyvern climb for a moment, then flew back down. Seeing Holst, he flew over and landed nearby.

The sword was still lodged in Nader’s shoulder. His axe had disappeared – probably fallen to the ground along with the enemy commander. Though Nader did not try to dismount, he did reach for the sword.

“Don’t pull it out,” Holst cautioned. “Just stay here; I’ll call one of the healers.”

“Pffft.” Nader waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. I can call them myself.”

Holst raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He cast a quick glance northward. Nader followed his gaze.

“Ah, it looks like our forces are going to merge with Queen Diana’s any minute now,” he said, voice shaking somewhat from the pain. “You go on ahead. I’ll… call those healers…”

Holst nodded. Running back to his own troops, he went back to pushing through.

Like Nader said, they were close to joining their allies. The end of the battle was finally in sight.

The Kingdom soldiers, though battered by the Titanus’ continued assault, had firmly gained the upper hand. Dedue watched out of the corner of his eye as Ashe’s battalion destroyed another one. He stole a quick glance along the entire Titanus line.

Most of them had been destroyed. At this rate, and with Cornelia already defeated, they could form a pincer with their Almyran allies and crush the rest of the Imperial army before nightfall.

Dimitri’s shaking, followed by a coughing fit, jolted Dedue back to the immediate situation. He tightened his grip on Dimitri’s arms, not wanting to let him fall into the mud.

“Hold on…” Dedue muttered. Lifting his head, scanning the Kingdom lines, he yelled, “Mercedes!”

Right on cue, Mercedes emerged from the allied forces, running towards Dedue’s voice. She ran faster at the sight of Dimitri and his wounds.

“Dimitri!”

Dedue knelt, easing Dimitri into a seated position while Mercedes sat down next to them. She placed a hand over his wound, conjuring a healing spell. Its soothing white glow covered the wound, slowing the bleeding and knitting the flesh back together.

Dimitri groaned.

“Hold still…” Mercedes said.

Ashe and his archer battalion, having finished with the Titanus, started to head south toward the rest of the Imperial army. Seeing Dedue and Dimitri with the healers, Ashe stopped. He redirected his troops and stopped by Dedue’s side.

“Ashe?” Dedue looked up. “What are you doing?”

“Is he…?” Ashe began.

Mercedes finished her spell. Dimitri tried to push himself to his feet.

“_Edelgard,” _he seethed. “Where is she?”

“Your Majesty, no!” Dedue gripped Dimitri by the shoulders. “Your wounds are not healed yet!”

Dimitri pushed Dedue back. He gripped Areadbhar and jumped to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a second, clutching his wound with his other hand. Leaning on Areadbhar for support, he glared southward. At the rest of the battlefield.

“Edelgard is over there,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

He took off running, leaving the others with little choice but to follow.

In almost the same instant that Diana loosed her arrow, the person in gray leaped into action. They whirled around, shouted for Edelgard to move, then extended their sword into a whip shape and lashed it out into the air.

Directly into the path of Diana’s arrow.

The arrow struck the blade, glancing off and falling harmlessly to the ground.

Kasirga took them out of range of Byleth’s sword. As he began to loop around and fly back, he readied his own bow. He and Diana both nocked arrows this time.

“Something’s not right,” Diana said. “They were facing away from us. How did they even know when I was going to shoot?”

Kasirga narrowed his eyes.

“I know Nader said they were a strategic genius,” he said. “That they had an uncanny ability to predict his troops’ movements, but…”

Diana took aim, then loosed her arrow. This time, Edelgard simply raised her shield to block it. Meanwhile, Byleth drew their whip-sword back, ready to strike again. Kasirga loosed his arrow first, forcing Byleth to dodge instead.

Kasirga flew them out of range again.

“This isn’t going to work,” Diana said. “We’ll have to concentrate our fire. Take them out one at a time.”

“Fine.” Kasirga pulled another arrow from his quiver. “Which one goes first?”

Diana did not answer right away. She took a few seconds to scan her opponents and the field below. However, her gaze tended to focus on Edelgard.

This was the Adrestian emperor. As far as Diana was concerned, the identity of the person who had dealt the blow was irrelevant; the emperor was the one who gave the order. Maybe her minty-haired companion had been the strategic mind behind Claude’s defeat, but it was Edelgard who was responsible for his death.

“The emperor.” Diana reached for another arrow. “Kill her, and the rest of the army will fall apart.”

Kasirga nodded his assent. He and Diana both aimed for Edelgard.

They staggered their fire. Kasirga loosed his arrow first, forcing Edelgard to raise her shield. But in the half-second after he fired his shot, his wyvern soared overhead, providing Diana with a different angle from which to shoot. She loosed her arrow, aiming at Edelgard’s neck, on the right hand side.

In between Kasirga and Diana’s shots, however, Byleth moved in. Somehow anticipating the angle of Diana’s shot, they pushed Edelgard out of the way. The arrow missed, albeit by a narrow margin.

Diana swore.

“We need to take a more direct approach,” she said. “Fly lower. I have an idea.”

There was a second’s pause.

“Are you sure about this?” Kasirga asked.

“Absolutely.”

Kasirga looked doubtful, but he flew lower anyway. As he did, he kept a close eye on Byleth, who had already drawn back their whip-sword in anticipation. Kasirga flew well out of reach, but kept a steady descent.

Diana stood up in the saddle. She braced herself on Kasirga’s shoulder, preparing to jump. Kasirga lowered his head, turning to keep his eyes on their opponents.

As expected, they had begun to pursue. However, Kasirga’s wyvern had already put plenty of distance between them. He kept the wyvern flying low, waiting on Diana to move.

Finally, Diana jumped. Right as he felt her leave, Kasirga pulled his wyvern into a steep climb. He turned the wyvern around and readied his bow.

It took a moment for Byleth and Edelgard to catch up. By then, Diana and Kasirga were already prepared. Arrow nocked, Diana raised Failnaught and took aim.

Now that she saw them up close, Diana noticed something was off. Emperor Edelgard seemed fine, if a bit drenched in rain and blood. Her companion with the glowing sword, on the other hand, was a different story.

Their movements were slower than Edelgard’s. Strained. Like they were exhausted. Diana looked in their eyes.

They were in agony.

She couldn’t see what was causing it – an unseen wound, simple exhaustion, or something else – but they were clearly slipping.

She adjusted her aim. Much as she wanted to finally kill Edelgard, her companion was the easier target.

It was after Rhea fell, but before Lady Riegan fired the shot. Byleth released their hold, allowing time to flow again. That was only a few seconds ago, mercifully keeping the energy drain to a minimum.

They turned around, frantically scanning the sky for the Almyran king’s white wyvern.

The king, they told themselves. That could not possibly be Claude up there. Not unless he had somehow returned from the dead to exact vengeance.

“Edelgard, move!”

They knew they wouldn’t be able to get her out of the arrow’s path in time. So they tried the only other option available. Extending the Sword of the Creator, they lashed it skyward and knocked the arrow off course.

Much to their frustration and dismay, however, that only seemed to delay the inevitable. The Almyran king and queen both focused their fire on Edelgard, and, once again, Failnaught hit its mark.

Clenching their jaw, forbidding themselves to scream, Byleth halted time again. More precious divine energy drained away as they rewound the last few seconds. They saved Edelgard this time, but a sickening feeling set in their stomach.

_“If turning back the hands of time was not enough, it must be fate…”_

Byleth retracted the Sword of the Creator. They took off in pursuit as the Almyran king retreated.

It was getting worse. Ignoring their lungs, which screamed for air, and their limbs, leaden and weak from their repeated Pulsing, they pressed on at full sprint. Every inch of their body seemed to cry out in pain, but they shut it out. They could not afford to stop now.

Besides, they had already saved Edelgard several times. Maybe Sothis had been wrong about her own powers. There was no way they could possibly –

Before they could properly register it, a glowing red arrow flew straight at them, piercing their heart.

Byleth couldn’t even scream. What little amount of vital energy remaining in them simply evaporated. Their hand fell open, dropping the Sword of the Creator into a nearby puddle. They fell next to it.

_“No!”_

This couldn’t be it. There _had_ to be some divine energy left. While their physical body succumbed to its wound, Byleth reached, digging frantically, tapping into the last of their divine power.

Although their physical body was already dead, that did nothing to ease the pain that wracked their spirit. Just commanding time to stop felt like the equivalent of being struck by several Bolting spells at once.

Then there was winding it backward. Byleth watched their own body rise back out of the mud, the arrow retreating back onto Failnaught’s string. After a quick glance to the skies, they located the Almyran king. He had his bow trained on Edelgard.

Quickly putting together a plan, Byleth let go. Now back in their living body, they immediately moved out of the path of the Almyran queen’s arrow. They leaped to the left, standing beside Edelgard.

“Get out of the way!”

Edelgard moved.

And instead of piercing her chest, the arrow struck her in the shoulder.

She cried out, and Byleth had to bite down hard on their lip. That wound was not fatal. Besides, Byleth was in no shape to attempt Pulsing again. Not unless they got a moment’s respite to recharge.

“Byleth…?”

Edelgard could only afford a millisecond’s glance in Byleth’s direction. She dodged another arrow, and blocked the second with her shield.

“We need a distraction.”

Edelgard did not look, but she still nodded in agreement.

“Hubert!” she called.

Hubert’s only reply was a distant, agonized scream.

Seconds after his cry fell silent, a flag of blue appeared from in that direction.

“How do they keep doing that?”

Kasirga clenched his teeth in frustration, nocking yet another arrow. The emperor and her tactician were clearly adept fighters with lightning reflexes, but they seemed to be a little too good at reading his attacks. Like they knew ahead of time what he was going to do.

And as if to frustrate him further, Diana had suddenly switched targets. Even though she had insisted they take down the emperor first.

Since their fight had started, Kasirga had only managed to wound Edelgard in the shoulder. While that counted for something, at least, he and Diana needed to hurry and finish the job. The two halves of the Almyran army had all but crushed the Imperial army’s eastern flank. The Kingdom army closed in from the northwest. Yet somehow Kasirga doubted anyone here saw surrender as a viable outcome.

Edelgard stood her full height, looking westward to the remainder of the flank. She called out a name, presumably the name of an allied commander. Meanwhile, Byleth swung their whip-sword in Diana’s direction. Diana jumped over as the blade swept across the field. Byleth spun around, making a second sweep, not allowing her enough time to land and ready her bow again.

With Byleth thus occupied, Kasirga tried a surprise attack from the side. Edelgard, however, saw his movement and shielded Byleth from Kasirga’s arrow. Kasirga flew closer, already pulling another arrow from his quiver.

“Emperor of Adrestia!” he called out. “Your armies have fallen! It’s over!”

Byleth turned around.

“So long as I draw breath, it is _not_ over,” Edelgard said. “And I will never surrender to you! I cannot entrust Fódlan to Almyran rule!”

“What makes you think we want it?” Diana interrupted. With the fighting briefly halted, she began to walk closer. She looked Edelgard directly in the eye. “I returned to Fódlan for only one reason, and you know damn well what it is.”

Failnaught’s glow intensified. A faint golden glow even began to halo Diana’s head as she slowly nocked an arrow to her bow. She took another step forward, and the glow gradually grew stronger, coalescing into a crescent shape, and then finally, into the Crest of Riegan itself.

“Claude knew the risks when he took the battlefield,” Edelgard said defiantly. “Furthermore, he failed to identify himself as the Almyran prince. Don’t blame me for -”

“As if that absolves you of guilt!” Diana spat. “Nothing you say will change the fact that you _murdered _my son. His blood is on your hands.”

“Enough!” Edelgard readied Aymr. “If you’re so obsessed with revenge, the least I can do is put you out of your misery.”

“Is that always your answer to anyone’s pain?”

Edelgard whirled around. The Kingdom’s blue flag had finally reached this part of the battlefield. At the front and center of the Kingdom army’s formation stood Dimitri. While his army halted, he approached, pointing Areadbhar at her.

“Dimitri,” she said. “Your own obsession with me is equally appalling… but that’s enough talking.”

“Agreed,” Kasirga cut in. He took aim. “Start praying to your Fódlan gods now. It’s time for you to die.”

Edelgard raised her shield, stopping Kasirga’s arrow. Dimitri rushed in, and Areadbhar clashed with Aymr. Kasirga flew over them, searching for a better angle to shoot. Just a few paces away, Byleth extended their sword and feinted toward Diana’s left. She reacted accordingly, and Byleth responded by swinging their extended blade in a wide right-to-left sweep.

Diana stepped back, but not far enough to completely escape the sword’s reach. The tip caught her armor at waist height, tearing a gash across her stomach. She bit her tongue so as not to not cry out in pain, and staggered backward.

The staggering motion had her now aiming Failnaught up into the air. She loosed the arrow, sending it skyward, way off target. She eventually regained her footing and stood upright again. Retreating a few paces, she took the defensive while Byleth pressed the attack.

Kasirga let Dimitri distract Edelgard while he took aim at Edelgard’s right hand side. Edelgard swept Areadbhar aside, but in doing so, left herself wide open. While she was in mid-swing, Kasirga seized his chance. He sent his arrow flying, and it landed squarely in the center of Edelgard’s chest.

She screamed.

So did Dimitri.

In the same instant that Kasirga’s arrow found its mark, Edelgard struck Dimitri with Aymr. Dimitri retaliated a split second later, burying Areadbhar several inches deep into Edelgard’s gut.

Kasirga landed his wyvern. Dimitri seized Aymr with his free hand, forcing it out of his chest himself. Pulling Areadbhar out of Edelgard’s gut, both staggered backwards away from each other. Dedue and several other soldiers broke away from the rest of the army, running up to brace Dimitri before he fell. A blond-haired woman began casting healing magic on his wounds.

Edelgard, on the other hand, simply fell in the mud. Kasirga dismounted and began to approach the body.

Meanwhile, Edelgard’s scream had caught Byleth’s attention. They froze, a look of horror in their eyes. Diana stood poised to block their next attack, but nothing happened. Byleth continued to hold still, the color draining from their face.

“No,” they gasped. “I can’t be…”

Diana frowned, unsure of what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it had them distracted and paralyzed.

They were already exactly where she wanted them, but she wasn’t going to take chances. She jumped up and seized them by the collar. Byleth snapped back to reality, but too late.

“You were reading all our attacks so well,” Diana said. “But you missed one.”

The arrow she had fired into the sky earlier came back down, piercing Byleth through the back. They screamed, in anguish as much as in pain. They lost their grip on their sword, and it fell to the ground.

A golden light, stretching from Byleth’s wound to Diana’s, appeared. Having infused the arrow with her Crest’s power, she now sapped what remained of Byleth’s life energy to heal her wound.

And all Byleth could do was watch. For their final attempt to use Divine Pulse had failed. Their reserve of divine energy was depleted.

Diana’s wound closed, and the light dissipated. Byleth’s head hung low, and their body went limp. Finally, Diana let go of their collar, letting them fall beside their sword. She turned around, facing Kasirga, Dimitri, and the rest of the army.

“It’s over,” she said. “It’s finally over…”


	14. Chapter 14

The remaining Imperial forces all surrendered by nightfall. The church forces, having suffered staggering losses, simply retreated from the field, hands full with transporting their wounded. Disarming and taking charge of the Imperial soldiers thus fell to the Kingdom and Almyran armies. And they had their hands full as well.

Kasirga and Diana had their forces set up camp along the banks of the Tailtean River. They remained there for two days, assessing their losses and dealing with the aftermath of the battle.

Dimitri’s forces returned to Fhirdiad. The king himself went with them, albeit barely clinging to life at the time. Mercedes and the other healers worked madly through the night, using all the medicine and magic available to save him. For those two days where Dimitri’s life seemed to hang precariously in the balance, Sylvain and the deputy commanders handled everything.

Sunlight began to poke over the horizon. It had now been three days since the battle. Kasirga rose early and left his tent, headed to the outer edge of the Almyran army camp.

Diana was already out there, waiting. She turned at the sound of Kasirga’s footsteps. As he walked up, standing side by side with her, they both looked out over the plains. The fields which, only three days before, had been awash in rain and blood. Now the rain was gone, and the fields turned green again. Hardly any evidence remained of the slaughter that had taken place there.

“Preparations are nearly complete,” Diana said.

Kasirga looked quizzical.

“Did you hear something from the Kingdom?” he asked. “I hadn’t heard anything since King Dimitri withdrew to Fhirdiad with those wounds…”

Diana did not reply, but she did not need to. Something flying toward them from the northwest caught their attention. As it approached, they recognized it as a pegasus. The Kingdom had finally sent a messenger.

The messenger flew over to report to the sentries. Diana and Kasirga headed over as well.

“News from Fhirdiad?” Diana asked.

“Yes,” the pegasus knight replied. She handed the missive to her. “His Majesty, King Dimitri, has requested Your Majesties’ presence at the royal court today. He wants to coordinate the armies’ next move.”

“I see.”

Diana opened the letter and held it out for her and Kasirga to read. A few minutes passed in silence before Diana rolled up the letter. She and Kasirga exchanged glances.

“All right, we’re coming.”

Kasirga and Diana’s meeting with Dimitri lasted the entire day, with them not returning to the Almyran army camp until nightfall. Until their return, they left Nader in command.

Though the remnants of the Imperial army they fought days before had retreated, Almyran scouts reported Imperial reinforcements approaching from the south, nearby Garreg Mach and Magdred Way. Nader and Holst quickly mustered a handful of units – only a couple of Almyran units plus the Goneril troops, given the short notice – and spread them as far out as possible along the southern edge of the plains. The trick worked – the Imperial force retreated.

As a precaution, however, Nader and Holst kept their troops in position. They remained in place until that evening.

During the wait, Holst wandered over to Nader’s command post. Their units were positioned adjacent to each other, so it was a short walk. And Holst could communicate with Nader without ever letting his own troops out of his sight. Seeing Holst approach, Nader waved him over.

Nader had dismounted, letting his wyvern curl up and take a nap in the grass while the general himself sat on a small rock outcropping. Holst walked up to him but did not sit down. Nader looked up, giving Holst a dubious look before standing up himself.

“What? You bored?” Nader joked.

Holst allowed himself a tiny smile in response.

“No, but I have been thinking about something,” he said.

Nader arched an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?” he asked.

“The war is all but over now,” Holst replied. “With the emperor dead, and the bulk of the Empire’s military force surrendered… At most, we may need to march on Enbarr and force a full surrender.”

“Yeah, and?”

“This is something that has been on the back of my mind since I joined you,” Holst went on. “In his letter, Claude said that if I sided with Almyra, there was a chance to save the Alliance. But now that the war is over… what _will _become of the Alliance?”

Nader shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“Well, haven’t you wondered the same thing – about what Almyra will do once this is over?”

Nader lowered his head. He stared at the ground, kicking at a loose rock near his feet.

“I suppose I have,” he said.

A long pause followed.

“I’m a military commander,” Nader said at last. “One of Almyra’s finest – I’m known as Nader the Undefeated for a reason, you know. I returned to Fódlan with a single objective in mind, and I accomplished it. The Empire has been defeated. Prince Arash has been avenged.”

He stopped again. Holst folded his arms, patiently waiting for Nader to continue. When he did, the Almyran general let out a hollow laugh first.

“You see, my fighting skill is my only redeeming quality,” Nader said, trying to sound lighthearted. He gave up quickly, his smile vanishing. “I don’t look forward to the mess that is postwar politics. And I can tell by the look on your face that you don’t either.”

“No one does,” Holst agreed. “But I suppose, to some extent, I’m like you. I fought to avenge my sister, and my skills lie more in fighting than in diplomacy. But… I also fought so I could save the Alliance. And the future of the Alliance – or, at least, what’s left of it – now lies on my shoulders.”

Nader gave him a curious look. “Just you?”

“Houses Riegan, Daphnel, and Gloucester have all fallen,” Holst explained. “And probably House Ordelia too. I had heard Queen Diana spared Margrave Edmund’s life, but aside from him, that only leaves House Goneril… my house.

“Of course, there’s the minor lords… well, the ones who survived, anyway… but they will no doubt spend all their time squabbling over the positions left by the fall of the other houses…”

“If you end up leading the Alliance, couldn’t you handle that?” Nader asked.

Holst shook his head. He shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, as if agitated.

“Alliance politics were never that simple, even at the best of times,” he said. “Then again, with this war, so much has changed. With half the major houses gone, and much of Alliance territory under Almyran occupation… I’m afraid we will have to start over from scratch. Everything – our leadership, our system of government, our relationship with Almyra… it all needs to change.”

Nader nodded thoughtfully.

“You think you can do that?” he asked.

“I have to,” Holst said resolutely. “I’m sworn to protect the Alliance. Not only that, this is what Claude asked me to do.”

Nader tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Claude envisioned a future where Almyra and Fódlan work together as allies. That letter he sent to me contained his final plan – the only option he had left of accomplishing that goal.” Holst looked down, unfolding his arms. “If we fail, his efforts will be for naught.”

Nader and Holst both fell silent for several minutes. Though he turned his gaze back to the southern horizon, Nader remained standing. Holst lingered for a moment, looking southward along with him. After a minute, he tore his gaze away. He needed to return to his own post.

Kasirga and Diana returned from Fhirdiad with the plan, putting it into motion early the next day. Kingdom and Almyran messengers flew out to the Empire, delivering a single demand: immediate and unconditional surrender. King Dimitri readied the Kingdom army, and Kasirga and Diana the Almyran armies, prepared to march on Enbarr if the remaining Adrestian nobles failed to respond.

Fortunately, further conflict would prove unnecessary. All Imperial troops remaining in the Kingdom had been captured, and the areas that Edelgard had conquered returned to Kingdom control. And by the end of the week, the messengers returned with news of the Empire’s surrender.

Jubilation swept the ranks. On the streets of Fhirdiad, and throughout the Almyran army camp, calls for celebration rang out.

At long last, the war was over.

The Almyran army prepared to withdraw. However, at Kasirga’s suggestion, and with Dimitri’s approval, they remained for just a little longer.

Long enough to throw a celebration feast in Fhirdiad.

Both kings agreed it was fitting – no better way to celebrate their shared victory and newfound alliance than by bringing everyone together for a feast. The festivities lasted the entire day and went well into the night.

The following morning, however, Kasirga and Diana mustered the troops again. They broke camp and began to withdraw. Diana’s forces went back to the Fraldarius coast, where their ships were still docked. On Holst’s advice, Kasirga took his forces south, marching through Garreg Mach, which the Imperial army had since surrendered to Kingdom occupation. Though slower, they at least avoided marching through Ailell again. From there, they crossed the Great Bridge of Myrddin to return to Alliance territory.

The joint Almyran and Goneril force emerged onto the plains of former Gloucester territory. Holst looked eastward, to the route that would take him and his troops back to Goneril territory – back home.

To his surprise, Kasirga and the Almyran army did not follow, even though the route would have taken them directly back to Fódlan’s Locket and the pass leading into Almyra.

“We will be making a stop in Derdriu first,” Kasirga explained.

Holst nodded his understanding, and they parted ways. Kasirga headed north, while Holst went east.

A few days later, Holst and the Goneril troops finally crossed the river separating Ordelia and Goneril lands. Soon after, they reached House Goneril’s estate, nestled in the valley just below the mountains of Fódlan’s Throat. Holst dismissed the troops, sending them all home to return to their families. He then rode onward to the estate alone.

He had just put his hand on the gate when he noticed someone coming out the front door of the mansion.

“_Holst!”_

It was Duke Goneril. Holst pushed the gate open, walking at the fastest pace he could manage without breaking into a run up to the porch. He stood in front of his father for a second, and then Duke Goneril quickly gave in. He pulled his son into a tight hug.

“I had heard the Almyran and Kingdom forces were victorious on the Tailtean Plains,” Goneril said. “But… it’s so good to see you come home.”

Holst was speechless. He simply waited in silence until his father let go of him. A moment later, Goneril did let go. He looked down at Freikugel, which Holst had set aside upon stepping onto the porch.

“Our family’s Relic,” Goneril said. “I thought I’d never see it returned… where did you find it?”

“The Empire had confiscated it and locked it away in the Riegan mansion while it was still under Imperial control,” Holst said. “The Almyran queen helped me find it after we recaptured Derdriu.”

“I see…”

Duke Goneril’s face fell. He turned away as if to head back inside.

“Father…” Holst picked up Freikugel again. “What’s wrong?”

Goneril cast a forlorn look at the Relic. He shook his head.

“Perhaps this is just the foolish sentiment of a grieving father,” he began. “But I would gladly never see that axe again if I could just have Hilda back safe and sound…”

Holst sighed.

“Father, believe me, I feel the same way,” he said. “I would give anything for Hilda to be here with us right now. But… we can’t. This is all we have left…”

He trailed off, staring back down at the axe. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Goneril reached out and gently patted Holst on the shoulder.

“I know,” Goneril said. “Forgive me…”

With that, Goneril headed back inside. After a moment’s pause, Holst followed him.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Though he knew he and his father had much to talk about – especially with regard to House Goneril’s future concerning Almyra – Holst decided to leave that topic be for another time. For now, he and his father both needed time to rest, and to process everything that had happened in the past several months. His father’s reaction to seeing Freikugel returned had made that much clear.

After dinner, Holst stopped by Hilda’s room. He hung Freikugel on the wall, adjacent to the bed. He stepped back, lingering a moment.

With the war over, and now that he was allies with Almyra, he figured he would not need that axe for a while. Best for it to rest here in the meantime.

Another minute passed, and Holst finally tore himself away and left the room. He headed outside, into the gardens. He wandered up and down, slowly gathering a small handful of flowers. Once he had enough, he took his little flower arrangement and headed out.

From there, it was a short walk to the memorial near the back of the estate. It was nothing too impressive or extravagant – a plaque with Hilda’s name and likeness inscribed on it. Holst knelt in front of it, spreading the flowers out.

“Hilda…” he said softly. “It’s me, Holst. I know it’s been a while…”

He leaned back and sat down.

“But I’m back now. And… we did it. We won. Everything you and Claude did… it wasn’t in vain. I know there’s still a long way to go, but… you can rest easy now…”

Kasirga halted his forces on the outskirts of Derdriu. He brought in a handful of troops, sending them to purchase supplies for the march back to Almyra while the rest of the army waited outside. Meanwhile, Kasirga himself went directly to the Riegan mansion.

Diana had specifically instructed for him to meet her there. Now it was time to see what this was about.

He didn’t see her waiting outside, so Kasirga let himself in. Seeing that the foyer was also empty, he began to wander around, searching the mansion for her. Not finding her anywhere on the first floor, he went upstairs.

He finally found her in the study. The door was hanging ajar, and he caught a shadow of movement upon glancing down the hall. He went to the door, pulling it open the rest of the way.

Diana abruptly stopped pacing.

“There you are,” she said. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Kasirga stepped over the threshold.

“What is it?” he asked. “Why did you want to meet here, of all places?”

He looked around, slowly taking in the whole room. Failnaught leaned against the writing desk in the corner, while the desk itself appeared to have been recently cleaned off and dusted. On the adjacent wall hung a landscape painting, but the landscape depicted was not anywhere in Fódlan. Kasirga recognized those cliff faces; this was a painting of the wyvern aeries in the mountains of eastern Almyra.

“You probably figured out by now what this place is,” Diana said. “What it used to be, anyway.”

“I have.” Kasirga tore his eyes away from the painting. “But what did you want to talk about? It can’t be to simply reminisce about the life you had here. That’s not like you. So, what is it?”

“I’ve been thinking about what to do for its future,” Diana replied. “Of course, we have yet to hash out the details with the Kingdom and the rest of the Alliance, but… as both the Almyran queen _and_ the sole remaining member of House Riegan, I could claim the Riegan territory as an Almyran possession…”

“Hmmm…” Kasirga looked down at the floor for a second to think. “You could. We already agreed with Dimitri that the Kingdom would handle the Empire’s affairs. The only issue could be with the Alliance, but if you truly wanted it, they could not stop you.

“But… _do_ you want it?”

Diana looked hesitant. She tapped and pivoted on her foot, about to start pacing again.

“This place was as much Arash’s home as it was mine,” she admitted. “More so, actually. I abandoned House Riegan to join you in Almyra. Arash left Almyra for this. I never wanted to return here, but… to abandon it again right after avenging our son, I just…”

Kasirga stood beside her, resting his hands gently on her shoulders.

“You don’t have to abandon it,” he said. “Take some time to think on it.”

Diana rested her hands on Kasirga’s. For a moment, the two locked gazes.

“Of course,” Diana said. “Perhaps, one day, I’ll return here. But for now…”

Lowering her hands, she went over to the writing desk and picked up Failnaught.

“I will keep this, at least,” she said. “In memory of my son, and the rest of my house.”

With that, she slung the bow over her back. On her way out, she stopped on the threshold, pulling something out of the pouch on her belt.

It was an Almyran headscarf. The very one Kasirga had given to Arash years ago.

“Here,” Diana said. “I searched everywhere, but it was all I could find.”

Kasirga took the scarf. Before Diana could take another step, however, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Half a minute went by in silence before he let go.

As Kasirga released her, Diana flashed him a rueful smile.

“I just wish I had something better to offer you in his memory,” she said.

“Don’t worry; this is more than enough,” Kasirga said. “But there is also something we can both do for him…”

“And what is that?”

“You’ve heard the songs at our feasts many times before,” he said. “The memory of the Almyran warrior is honored in song and legend. Our son’s name will be sung at feasts and told in stories for generations to come. I’m sure of it.”

Diana smiled again, genuine this time.

Kasirga wrapped the scarf around his wrist. He followed Diana out.

While he returned to the forces waiting for him outside the city, Diana returned to her fleet. Within a couple of weeks, they would meet up again, at the palace in Almyra. Until then, Diana merely stood on the deck of the flagship, watching Derdriu slowly shrink on the horizon.


End file.
